Evil Little Machine

Cute, isn’t he?

And until ten days ago we were getting along very nicely. I liked his extra large load capacity. I felt good about using less energy and water to wash endless loads of laundry. My kids liked watching the clothes spin around at different speeds and in different directions through the window. I wasn’t even frustrated when I discovered all the moldy gunk that gets caught in the rubber ring right next to the door. I just calmly wiped it out on a regular basis, and left the door ajar to discourage future mildew.

And then he started clunking, my fine metal friend. And then his contents came out increasingly more soppy and soggy. And then he stopped spinning entirely.

I called the home warranty company. They called another company, and a fixit man arrived the next day. (I was impressed at their quick action). He disassmbled the machine and decided the problem was a belt. He emergency ordered the part and said he’d be back in three days to put the machine back together. The fix it company messed something up and couldn’t send him until today. Mr. Fix It Man (a pretty decent fellow, although not overly personable) arrived this afternoon to my delight and relief, as I, the only family member to actually run out of clean clothes, have been hand washing things for a couple of days. Mr. Fix It Man put everything back together and left.

I ran downstairs and immediately sorted through the MOUNTAIN of family laundry and stuck a load in the washer. It quietly hummed and spinned. I was so grateful, and looking forward to an evening of loading and unloading the washer and dryer, diminishing the enormous mound of dirty clothes on the floor (it’s not the washing I dislike about laundry; it’s the folding and putting away). After the buzzer buzzed, a half hour later, I bounded down the stairs only to find my clothes . . . sopping wet. Sitting in water. And when I turned the little dial to see if I could spin them again, the machine just groaned and moaned at me.

I called the Fix It Company, and they said they’d have Mr. Fix It Man call me, but he didn’t. So I have to harrass them again tomorrow. And that means that this:

isn’t going away anytime soon. Sigh.