I spend a lot of time searching through my blog for various articles that I may or may not have written to link them in my new posts. This was the case when I sat down to write about my new washing machine, but alas, I didn't find the documentation. Which means I'll have to start at the beginning.
A little over ten years ago, we bought a Whirlpool washing machine because our old one died. It was the first one without the agitator, a top loader that seemed very big to me. So big that I figured it could wash my king size comforter. The washing machine broke, although I did not confess to that being the cause. The repair guy informed us the tub was broken, was not covered under warranty, and shrugged his shoulders.
Hubby was pissed--at Whirlpool, at the store where we bought the machine (where the guy told me I could wash my king-sized comforter), and at everyone around him who had a working washing machine. See now, why I left out the comforter details? It's a wife thing.
Irritated, he went to Home Depot and purchased another washing machine without my knowledge. It was delivered the next day while I was at a swimming lesson and so my SIL, who was visiting, accepted the delivery and showed me how to use the machine. It was a Maytag, much smaller than the Whirlpool, and straightforward. No bells or whistles. The detergent went directly into the machine, and the fabric softener into a ball then thrown into the bottom. I shrugged and went with it. I mean, it's laundry.
Two weeks ago, that machine, during the rinse and spin cycle, went apeshit crazy. It emitted a sound like a ten-foot monster tearing through my garage growling and screaming at an ear-splitting level. I went outside, guessing I had an unbalanced load, and the damn machine was walking. WALKING. Away from the wall and toward me, growling and groaning and shrieking. I barely had enough time to push the button that turned it off before I was swallowed whole.
I fixed the load and turned it back on, but the monster kept coming. It took another three washes before it hit me that maybe the damn thing was broken. I pulled out the wet laundry and hauled it to my friend's house to her super large Samsung washing machine. It can wash an entire sports teams' laundry, and she's a skilled laundress, taking great pride in her soaking levels, hanging of clothes, etc. She finished my load for me.
When the husband got home, I gave him the bad news.
Tom: "What do you mean it walks?"
Me: "It walks. Out. Away from the wall. And it screams. Loudly."
He refrained from asking if I'd been drinking, but I know he thought it. He's learning.
He took the back off and turned it on. Within five minutes, the machine was out of control, and Tom appeared in the house his eyes wide and his hair standing on end.
Tom: "That was the craziest thing ever. Did you hear that noise? It was so loud I couldn't hear myself think. That was incredible. The thing literally walked. I couldn't hold it back."
Me: "Have you been drinking?"
Tom: "What? I'm serious."
One thing about the husband is he keeps every bit of paperwork on appliances. So he pulled out the information on the Maytag and lamented that it was only a little over eight years old. He'd paid for an extended warranty, was annoyed we'd never used it and decided that he'd fix the machine himself with Youtube's help.
He spent two days watching videos and assessing the machine. In the meantime, he suggested I go out and look at washing machines. My laundress friend and I did this, and I found two machines at Home Depot I thought would work well and were within the range I would spend. I went home, gathered my laundry, and turned it over to my friend. I wasn't missing my machine at all.
By the end of the week, the husband decided the tub was the issue. Same as the Whirlpool. He went off to work and discussed machines with his co-worker and then purchased a month's subscription to Consumer Reports. He read the reports and then read the customer reviews, and then he insisted I accompany him to Home Depot to look at machines. Sigh.
My two washing machines were on his list, but not as high as the LG. So I opened the lid, peered inside, and asked the lady if I could wash a king-sized comforter. She told me I should be able to do that on the "bulky" cycle, and I agreed it was a fine machine. While the hubby bought it, I went to look at refrigerators.
My friend continued doing my laundry for another week until my machine was delivered. I had my coffee while the husband followed the delivery guy's instructions to run the machine for thirty minutes.
After thirty minutes, he appeared in the house and smiled.
Tom: "The machine is all ready to go."
Me: "Go where? Does this one walk too?"
Tom: "No, it's ready to go meaning ready to get to work. It's all ready for you.--to get to work."
Me: "Say that again so I can record that for my SnapChat followers."
Then we spent our Saturday watching our laundry swish in the see-through lid.
This, people, is what happens to parents after the kids go to college. Get ready.
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