Disgustedly, I said to my Dad, "I cannot believe that my blow dryer died! It's not even that old--I just got it in college."
To which my Dad validly replied, "Just got it in college? Haven't you been out of college for eight years? I'd say you're lucky it lasted that long."
So maybe my sense of time and reality is a little off. I just really liked that blow dryer.
My Dad offered to give me a blow dryer that he kept out in his garage and used for patching his kayak. It looked even older than the one that had just died, but I agreed to take it because I was in a pinch. And, I actually liked this blow dryer better! It had a wider nozzle than my old one and it was even hotter. But, I knew this blow dryer bliss could not last forever, and, sadly this blow dryer finally died a couple of weeks ago.
Upon walking down the aisles of CVS, I found that their blow dryer selections ranged in price from $19.99 to upwards of $70. I, of course, went for the $19.99 model, not because I'm especially cheap, but because a blow dryer falls into the category of items I don't like to spend money on because they are boring. Like, plain white socks--they're something you have to have, but they are no fun at all; therefore, I hate to spend money on them. Although, this cheap model is not without perks--it does have a retractable cord which is quite convenient.
The area where I am seeing the most deficit is the sound. As soon as I turned it on the first morning, my daughter, Sophie, immediately woke up crying. And, I don't blame her--the high pitched squeal of it even startled me when I first heard it. I have never had a blow dryer this loud before. This scenario played out during the following three mornings before I realized I had to do something about this. And, having only one bathroom (which happens to be adjacent to Sophie's room), this meant finding a new place to blow dry my hair. Since my husband would be asleep in our room, that was out. I thought about the kitchen, but since the kitchen windows look out over my neighbor's path to his garage (which I see him walking on every morning) and I can't use the blow dryer wearing anything more than underwear, I thought that might be a little awkward.
So, the only logical choice was the basement. My cold, dark, scary basement, half of which I have never even set foot in for fear of what I might find lurking there. As I am stuck down there until this blow dryer dies (let's hope life span decreases with price), my only consolation is that whatever scary things may be hiding in the dark recesses of my basement will most certainly be driven away by the ear piercing decibel of my new blow dryer.