C: Honey? You need to come downstairs.
C:The washer isn’t working.
Not exactly the best way to start the weekend, but we’re used to it. We’ve endured a number of appliance-driven set backs (furnace, water heater, backed up sewer line, water softener, leaky gas lines) over the course of the year and a “stopped” washer wasn’t going to even come close to pushing me over the edge. It’s all a part of the, “Congratulations proud homeowner! Prepare to bend over plenty during the course of your life!”
RTFM. Manual comes out. Warranty long expired. Check circuit breaker–good. Shift load around. Test outlet. Check length of spin cycle–no info. Interesting reading on removing stains. Tobacco stains? Blood? Urine. I can imagine all sorts of dark nasty scenarios for each stain described, but now that I am parent, all of it seems possible in some innocent accidental way. Example: Family reunion. Uncle Cletus turns and spits long stream of tobacco juice right as your child runs by, nailing him in the back. Child surprised, falls and smacks face on sidewalk, bloodys nose, pees pants due to shock and awe.
I go to the porch and smoke the obligatory cigarette and see what happens. Maybe God will sort it out. I imagine myself downstairs with dripping laundry scattered on the floor, a hose in the washer to the drain and sucking on it to start a flow (siphon–okay). Yah, not a pretty picture. I can see myself spitting out the dirty water, yet being pleased that I actually siphoned something. Back downstairs to try one more time and begin preparations for siphoning. Call Wettsteins on Monday. Turn cycle dial a couple of more times. Press in and out. WUUSSSSSSSH! Mofo washer kicks back in. Financial crisis averted. Spin cycle doing its thang. Back to life.