Our washer died last night in a gear-grinding, house-rattling, sonic-boom spasm, filled with a full load of hot water and huge pool towels.  Dead.  We both did what you do, pushed and pulled buttons, flipped switches, grabbed the thing and shook it up as much as we could, kicked it(me).  Dead is dead, is dead.  So where is the good news?

Saturday, October 11, 2014

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Today I am grateful for the timing on the death of my washing machine.  Okay, I’ll admit it, some days it’s a bit of a stretch to find gratitude when things are crashing and burning all around the world. . .and in my house.

 

 

 

Our washer died last night in a gear-grinding, house-rattling, sonic-boom spasm, filled with a full load of hot water and huge pool towels.  Dead.  We both did what you do, pushed and pulled buttons, flipped switches, grabbed the thing and shook it up as much as we could, kicked it(me).  Dead is dead, is dead.  So where is the good news?

 

 

 

All of the rest of the laundry was already done.  This was my last load.  It didn’t happen on Christmas or when I have my holiday brunch.  It also didn’t happen when we were just getting home from a road-weary trip to Wisconsin, with three suitcases full of dirty laundry.  And we don’t have house guests right now, so that’s good, too.  We also have a very nice Laundromat less than a mile away.  All good things.

 

 

 

Since it was already late at night I insisted we do nothing with the mess until morning.  The water was too hot, the towels too drenched and my attitude to cranky.  Remember we are a scientist and a writer.  He’s Walter White, I’m Jesse (Breaking Bad Reference).  He padded around in his usual morning stupor and said, “Give me a few minutes to get dressed and get my hearing aids and pills and glasses, and I’ll rig up a siphon and get that water out of there.”  Being a morning person, I got a pot and started dipping. By the time he got there I had half the towels wrung out and in a wash basket.  It’s how we have stayed married so long.

 

 

 

Further good news is that everyone and his brother are having Columbus Day sales offering creative financing for dollar-challenged, woebegone sots like us.  So while I’m not exactly delighted that the blasted washer kicked the 3.4 cubic foot bucket, I am grateful for the timing of its death.

 

All of the rest of the laundry was already done.  This was my last load.  It didn’t happen on Christmas or when I have my holiday brunch.  It also didn’t happen when we were just getting home from a road-weary trip to Wisconsin, with three suitcases full of dirty laundry.  And we don’t have house guests right now, so that’s good, too.  We also have a very nice Laundromat less than a mile away.  All good things.

Since it was already late at night I insisted we do nothing with the mess until morning.  The water was too hot, the towels too drenched and my attitude to cranky.  Remember we are a scientist and a writer.  He’s Walter White, I’m Jesse (Breaking Bad Reference).  He padded around in his usual morning stupor and said, “Give me a few minutes to get dressed and get my hearing aids and pills and glasses, and I’ll rig up a siphon and get that water out of there.”  Being a morning person, I got a pot and started dipping. By the time he got there I had half the towels wrung out and in a wash basket.  It’s how we have stayed married so long.

Further good news is that everyone and his brother are having Columbus Day sales offering creative financing for dollar-challenged, woebegone sots like us.  So while I’m not exactly delighted that the blasted washer kicked the 3.4 cubic foot bucket, I am grateful for the timing of its death.