Kathleen McCall:
Occasional�� Muse�

2002-01-10 - 4:45 p.m.

Laundry Soap Opera, Part II

Hey! The washer's fixed!!

And it's a damn good thing, too, because I needed to wash the two dozen soakin' wet towels that Washer Man created.

Because I taped a big sign to door on the front of the washer, JUST in CASE, you know, a BIG sign - I made it with a Sanford Sharpie and the letters were so big I was high on fumes for an hour - WASHER IS FULL OF WATER AND WILL NOT DRAIN OR SPIN. See those letters? Well, mine were a lot bigger. A lot, people.

So what did Washer Man do first thing? Can we all say it together? HE MOVED THE SIGN AND OPENED THE WASHER DOOR.

Oh yes he did.

He makes a lot more money than I do, by the way.

"It wasn't supposed to have that much water in it," he grumped at me. Yes. Because IT'S BROKEN, Mr. Hawkings. Actually, he kind of said it like it was my fault, which it was, but he didn't know that yet.

Well, he certainly fixed THAT part of it, letting all that excess water out into my hallway first thing.

It WAS my fault the washer was broken, because he pulled two nickels and a small screw out of the pump, and as much as I would have preferred that it be Barbie shoes so I could blame it on the kids, it wasn't. I have been laundering money, and I accept the consequences.

However, I could have done without the 30 gallons of wash water on the hall rug.

So he didn't ask me to move the washer for him, which was too bad because I had my whole sciatica routine all ready to go, but he did ask me to hold the water pump still while he took the clamps off. I didn't mind, except for the feeling of the cold water in the rug seeping through the knees of my pants. I was on hands and knees with my head jammed under the washer, holding a water pump very still, when Older Daughter stops by to say, "Do you want this paper from the school?"

And Washer Guy says to her, "Are you brain-dead?"

Hellooooo? I can say that about my kid, or think it, but YOU can't. You're the guy who can't read the words "WASHER IS FULL OF WATER." My kid could read it to you, though. My kid would know that if you open the door of a front-load washer that is marked "FULL OF WATER" that the results will likely irritate your mother. Which fact I later comforted her with.

"I'll just put it on your back." she says, deposits the school notice, and flits off. And of course I really can't say anything, because that would imply I agree with the brain-dead assessment. While I will not ARGUE it, especially not with the man who is going to make it possible for me to wash all those wet towels, I am not going to go along with it.

Net net: the washer works, and I now have plenty of clean towels. Good. I have water in the rug and will have to go out and find the wet-dry vac and vacuum the water out of the rug. Bad. It was all under warranty and cost me nothing. Good. This washer cannot tolerate even the smallest amount of money laundering. Bad. I can get that pile of wash off my bathroom floor. Good. I let the repairman insult my kid. Very Bad.

Oh, and the garage door opener broke today, the screws ripping right out of the wet wood carrying large chunks of garage door with them, so they can't be replaced anywhere near the same place or at the same length. Of course.

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