I have never bought a house. To date, my big purchases (for which I am continuously Visa and Mastercard’s bitch) tend to include things with an electronic bent or something to do with travel. I seem to have no problem handing over my credit or bank card and imagining the numbers in my bank account spreading wings and flying south for the winter.

I imagine that when I do go buy a house, my friends might have to keep an eye on me, or perhaps even tether me to something very large and very stable. Like a bridge. With a very short rope.

My new apartment came with an extremely old washer and dryer. As the landlady showed me around she made a point of mentioning that when they broke she was not going to replace them. I nodded in affirmation and glossed over the behemoths that occupy a large chunk of my bathroom.

I loaded my first set of clothes in glee. There was no running downstairs to the laundry room. Here I was king. But lo, what was that? Was that a man dying? Something surely could not make the sound of someone in such pain and agony. Something could and it was the washer. Never mind, I thought, it seemed to be spinning, it seemed to be washing.

It was after it had come to (a rather deafening) stop that I reached in to discover that I had actually washed my wallet. Thankfully, the washing machine turned out to be nothing more than a water agitator. All it had done to my now freshly laundered wallet was to get it soaking wet. I surmised (having such astute mental capabilities as I do) that perhaps my clothes had received the same treatment.

Well, I knew I had to replace the washing machine.

How about the dryer? An hour and a half into two drying circles, my clothes had discovered more humidity than what they had leaving the washing machine. I will give credit to the dryer that it did make both the clothes and my bathroom quite warm.

I had to replace the dryer.

So there I was with my house guest from Edmonton, Vanessa, in tow at Brault et Martineau starry-eyed, somewhat-bemused and looking for a washing machine and dryer. As the sales person wrote my details and continued questioning me, I had a weird pang within my brain. Normally I would have associated that feeling with a lion coming to eat me and that feeling, at least I suspect as no large animal has tried to gore me just yet, would normally have led me to run away.

The washing machine and dryer bear no physical resemblance to any giant cat known to humankind.

Yes, I suspect someone should tie me down on the day I buy a house. Or just shoot me. Whichever is easier or more preferable.

If you are curious, my new washing machine and dryer will arrive in the next month. Till then I will avoid turning on the behemoths and instead stroll on down to the laundromat and make some friends.

I’ve come to believe that Nine Inch Nails is like fine wine — the concerts simply keep getting better with age. I was lucky enough to be able to catch the NIN Lights in the Sky concert at Edmonton tonight. Heck, I was lucky enough to be on the floor thanks to my friends Dave and Jeff at BioWare.

So, for those of you considering going to the concert elsewhere, do so. I thoroughly enjoyed it. I’m not entirely sure how the man brings himself to sing Head Like A Hole anymore, he’s played it at every concert I’ve been to now. That would be three times, Vancouver in 2000 (Fragility Tour), Edmonton  2005 (With Teeth Tour) and Edmonton 2008 (Lights in the Sky Tour).

Okay, so the highlights. Loved the giant screens, great imagery, fantastic set list going through pretty much his entire repertoire, a little slow in some sections when he pulled out the instrumentals, but I must be showing my age because I liked it all. Finally, there was a nice thank you to the fan and an acknowledgement of The Slip being released for free. Only was spectacular, Survavalism was very cool with live video streams from the crowds and Trent onto the screens and Hurt had the entire stadium singing.

Now, to be sure a couple of jackasses tried to climb over poor Jeff to go crowd surfing and some parts of the mosh pit looked like a wrestling ring, but generally this was a spectacular concert.

And yes, I’m showing my age, I actually used ear plugs. I am not ashamed, I have no ringing in my ears now.

Somehow with all my travelling last week, I missed the Nelson Mandela 90th birthday tribute and raising money for the 46664 charity to help people with Aids. I don’t know of a single person that does not consider Nelson Mandela to be one of the greatest and humblest people alive. In a world so jaded, I suspect, like Gandhi, the idea and spirit of Nelson Mandela has become as important as the man himself

I watched part of the tribute online on cbc.ca and perhaps the two most magical moments for me was Johnny Clegg and Joan Baez singing “Asimbonanga” and Eddie Grant with “Gimme Hope Johanna”. Perhaps I’m just a softie inside, but I get misty-eyed just listening to the songs let alone watching them being sung.

If you have not heard “Asimbonanga”, I’m going to post this video of Johnny Clegg and Savuka with Nelson Mandela himself in Frankfurt.

Eddie Grant with “Gimme Hope Johanna”: