Pink sky in the morning, shepherd's delight

When we were young, my sister and I had this running private joke where we would say Red sky at night/morning/afternoon/dusk/whenever shepherd's warning/delight/worried etc. The joke being that we would deliberatley get it wrong, much to the annoyance of our mother.

Today's blip could have been called one step forward two steps back or Arrival of the terrible twos or Nearly another pyjama day part 3 oe even 'Oh Conchita, will you never go!'. Unfortunately, one step backward was the net result with three of us returning to shall we say, less than ideal stomachs, but no vomitting.

This afternoon some optimistic men came by, ahem one month after the initial call went out, that Conchita our dishwasher was on her last legs, albeit rather spindly twisted metallic legs, down to being yanked out for previous repairs. They came they saw, they concluded that after all, maybe a write off is the best bet. I think this in itself created a new level of acid in my stomach. I also think I could, no actually did tell them on their first visit that after two repairs, Conchita was probably best laid to rest. We await the 'background reports' on Tuesday.

Hey ho, as they say.

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