So . . . Our Washer Sounds Like a Machine Gun

The washer finally bit the dust. If you have been reading my blog the last few weeks, you know I have not had the best luck with my appliances this summer. Two weeks ago, I wrote about setting my dinner on fire and mentioned that the spin cycle on the washer sounded like a machine gun.

Apparently, the spin cycle on one's washer is not supposed to sound like a machine gun. Even though it worked for a while, despite the fact that my house sounded like a war zone on laundry days, eventually the washer decided it was tired and quit.

It's a good thing too. My husband, Dan, didn't believe that the spin cycle sounded like some kind of automatic weapon. He thinks I have a tendency to exaggerate. I called him at work one day so that he could hear it firsthand.

"THIS IS WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT," and I held the phone up to the washer. "DO YOU HEAR THAT?"

"Not really," he said.

"WHAT?" I yelled into the receiver because I could barely hear him.

"I said, 'Not really.' It just sounds like you're standing in a lot of wind."

"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU CAN'T HEAR THAT GUN SOUND! CAN YOU JUST TAKE A LOOK AT IT SOMETIME? MAYBE SOMETHING NEEDS TO KICKED BACK INTO PLACE!"

"I'll look at it sometime."

"ARE YOU SURE YOU CAN'T HEAR THAT?"

Before he had a chance to look at the washer though, it was time to do laundry again.

Everything seemed to be normal, and by normal I mean it still sounded like a machine gun, but the machine seemed to be working. I even went for a run during the first load, came home, put that load in the dryer, started a second load, and got ready to shoot a commercial.

I was supposed to shoot a promo spot for a theater production in a neighboring city, forty minutes away. Getting in costume would equal just the amount of time it would take me to wash and dry that second load of laundry. I am an organized schedule fiend.

A while later, I noticed I hadn't heard the washing machine. I ventured into the laundry room, opened the lid, and found the second load of colors sitting in a vat of blue soapy water.

I called Dan.

While I was on the phone with him, I tried to reset the cycle. The clothes still just sat there, soaking.

"Oh wait, the motor's starting again!" I exclaimed, but then, "Um . . . okay, that smells like fire. The washing machine smells like fire! I don't think we want the machine running. I'm unplugging it."

"I'm on my way home," Dan said.

While waiting for Dan, I started to ring out our clothing, piece by piece, and empty them into the dryer. By the time he got home, I had to leave to shoot the commercial. I charged him with the task of getting the second load into the dryer, calling a repair person, and scooping the sitting water into a mop bucket which he then dumped into the street gutter. Our neighbors have to love us.

We did try to turn on the washer one more time, and it still smelled like fire. I haven't had a good track record with appliances that catch on fire lately, so we quickly unplugged the machine again.

The good news is, the repair person came over the next day and was able to fix the washer right then and there. (We used the same local service from "The Day the Fridge Went Bad." We've had good luck with them.)

No more fire smell. No more machine gun sound. It could have been way worse.

What the hell?

I'm supposed to shoot a promo right now (hence the 1900's era dress),

but instead, I'm dealing with a washer that sounds like a machine gun.

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