I am a person of routines. For example, Saturdays I clean the house and I do the laundry. I do try to shop if there’s time left in the day. However, due to my tight schedule, there is little time for me to mess around. So when something goes wrong, I’m not happy. And when the laundry goes wrong, well that’s just a disaster…
Posted by: kerryannekay | April 15, 2015
Washing Machine Issues – Part 1
Last Saturday I loaded my laundry into my usual two machines. One load was mine and the other was for the boys stuff. Yes, I loaded the proper amount of clothing in each washer. And yes, I added the proper amount of laundry detergent in each washer.
I started my personal wash load and then the boys stuff. Several seconds after the washing machine door locked I knew there was something wrong. I know that high-efficiency front-loading machines do not do use a lot of water. So any extra water is quite suspicious. But then, I saw the most horrible of sights: bubbles and foam. This type of machine doesn’t make bubbles or foam. And it wasn’t just regular foam; it was that nasty ‘you’ve done something wrong laundry death foam’.
I stood there like an idiot and stared at the washer machine as it filled with thick foam and water. “Please don’t be as bad as I think it is! Please go away foam! Please drain out and stop making all those weird noises,” pleated to the machine. The machine responded by rocking back-and-forth in its place. There was nothing I could do. I had to sit and wait and see if the machine would explode with foam and water or make a last minute recovery.
I sat down and watched both the foam and water levels rise. Each time the machine would groan or produce an odd noise I brace for the worst. “Glub, glub, glub,” went the machine. The poor thing was struggling to wash the boys laundry. I was afraid it would die at any moment.
The washer attempted several times to empty the water in it’s belly through the proper channels. However, those attempts grew weaker and weaker as the cycle went on. At one point in time, it completely skipped the drainage part of the cycle. I guess it figured, ” Why bother? It’s not going anywhere. “I truly thought it had died at that point time.
When it began to move again several moments later, the inevitable happened. Water began to leak from its most intimate parts. At first it was a slow trickle. Perhaps just an embarrassing leak for a hard-working machine. But then, it became a moderate leak. There was no hiding that the machine was on its way out. I knew the machine was in its death throws when water and foam began leaking out through the seals of the door.
My only concern was the boy stuff inside… and the rather large puddle of water accumulating at the foot of the machine. I couldn’t return wet nasty smelling guinea pig bedding to the boys. So, I sat and pushed the water to the floor drain the best I could.
It was depressing watching the washing machine die. I mean, the poor thing rocked back-and-forth like Moby Dick finally caught by Ahab. As I sat there, the dutiful machine worked and worked to complete its last assigned task as if it was the last thing it would ever do in this world.
After a brutal 30 minutes of slow death, the washer machine finally gave its last heave-ho and came to rest slightly out of alignment with the other machine. I thought, ‘there’s only a slight puddle here… Perhaps it’s not that bad…’ Nope. As I looked through the window, I saw the results of its efforts and suffering. The entire machine was filled with foam, water, guinea pig hair, the random bean, and laundry.
Upon my observation, I had the fleeting thought of leaving everything there and just running. There was only one problem: everyone knows I’m Fred and Lamont’s mom. I would quickly be identified as the washing machine murderer. I knew justice would be swift. After all, this was one of the favorite machines in our complex.
I had to face up to it. I and I alone had killed the front loading high-efficiency washer machine number two in the upper laundry room. As penance, I would have to empty this machine of its contents and make the dreaded call to the maintenance guy in to report it’s death.
As I looked at dead machine, I wondered if I could figure out what it happen. After all, removal of the boys laundry would be just like perform an autopsy. But, I highly doubted I had the skills to determine the cause of death. I have no plumbing skills.
All I knew is that if I wanted the boys stuff back, I’d have to go in to that machine up to my elbows. I knew it was going to get messy. I also knew that, eventually, I have to call for the maintenance guy to report this incident. But that’s next week…
Posted in Guinea Pig