“Mom! The dryer is making blasphemous prophecies again!” it never failed, out here in the dead zones strange things happened.
Lights would turn on mysteriously, coffee pots spurted suspect fluids, and Toasters began dissertations on the merits of barbequeing humans.
But the dryer, the dryer was a bit different.
The lint would sneak past the filter, stage an SEIU style meeting in the vent tube, and then burst forth as ravening hordes of zombie dust bunnies seeking to eat your miraculously still whole clothing.
I’m glad I didn’t read that before going to bed.
I’m putting DP in charge of the dryer situation, because the vent-cleaning company doesn’t open until 8:00, and I have to leave for the dentist at 7:45. I think he’s replacing a filling.