I wanted to be heroic today. I wanted to tell you all about how handy I am, and how I can do anything, and… and PICTURES! I even remembered to take PICTURES! And then…
Last weekend my washer broke.
This isn’t a normal sort of problem with a washer. For one thing, my washer front-loads. Which means, if it breaks down, you’re GONNA get water all over the floor. It’s not optional. When I moved into my house, the former owners had never put a floor in the laundry room. It’s half of what at one point was the back porch of a 1902 house, and they threw down a piece of particle board on top of the old porch boards and called it good. Getting that wet isn’t ok at all. So a couple years ago I laid some laminate in there, and that seems ok, except it has a tendency to fog up a bit in the winter because it doesn’t have proper subflooring. Fogging floor plus three dogs plus two cats plus the occasional drip from the detergent bottle equals an entire floor covered in semi-sticky dust weasels.
I know what you’re thinking, but they’re more tenacious than dust bunnies, and lower profile. Plus they slink. They’re dust weasels.
So on Sunday, The Boy was washing all his slacks so that his new job could send him to Boise on Monday for an overnight training thing. And… three hours later, the washer was still making washy noises, but no actual washy was happening.
Fun fact: You cannot open the door of a front load washer until it finishes its cycle.
Fun fact II: It’s hard to convince a washer that its cycle is finished when, like, dude, it can FEEL that there’s water in there, there is no POSSIBLE way it could be done. *
Actually, you can just unplug the washer and the door unlocks, but I wasn’t back there fiddling with it, The Boy was.
Of the two of us, The Boy is not the handy one. I’m the fixer, rewirer, installer, fidgeter, floorer, glazier. His job is to make sure I always have internet and the capacity to take a hot bath. Really, that just makes his life so much easier.
So The Boy gets the washer open, and mercifully the clothes have absorbed most of the water that was in there, and he’s staring at them and then he goes to the cupboard to get a Tupperware.
I know, I had to have him repeat that too.
I convinced him to use the actual cooler, which he was having to navigate around in order to access the things which are NOT meant to hold large volumes of cold wet. Together, we lugged all his pants to the tub and I did the wash the way the house’s original inhabitants would have wanted, because it was 6:30 on a Sunday night, and seriously he needed pants. Like, now.**
Last night was the first night I was home right after work, so I decided to open the washer up, hoping it was just a slipped belt or something. (Tuesday night is a little hazy but it involves a sake bar and me eating a goat eyeball. In case you were wondering, yes, it’s EXACTLY like the big tapioca pearls in bubble tea. In case I just spoiled bubble tea for you forever, I apologize.)
The script thing for editing photos is working about as well as my washer today. Sorry if they end up huge.
Anyway, that’s the culprit. Yes, my cats eat out of ramekins, cause those little jerks are FANCY.
Those are screws. There are about a hundred thousand of them on the back of a washer. So while I was unning the screws, I had plenty of time to make this little list:
10 WAYS CROSSFIT APPLIES TO DISASSEMBLING THE WASHER
1) Like a WOD, the task will seem overwhelming at first. Just do one thing at a time.
2) You’re going to get dirty and sweaty. Get over it. You can always wa… no you can’t, unless you finish this job.
3) Screaming makes you stronger. The same noise that will get you that extra 5# on your clean and jerk max will unstick a screw for its first turn.
4) Stop thinking about how much more of this you have to do. Live in the moment.
5) Grip strength is key.
6) Mobility is important.
10) Counting gets really hard between round 6 and round 10.
That’s my super high tech screw storage solution. The same idiots who put particle board in a washroom floor also had no idea how to tape windows for painting. I’ve been scraping glass with razor blades since I bought the place. The window behind the washer isn’t a real high priority for me, cleanlinesswise.
So eventually I got The Culprit all unscrewed, and went to take the back off.
That’s when I discovered that some asshole really wants your floor to get wet, because the holes for the hoses? are big enough for the HOSE, but not for the ATTACHY BIT THAT HAS A NAME BUT I AM NOT GOOGLING IT JUST TELL ME IN THE COMMENTS OK ITS PROBABLY A “FEMALE COUPLER” OR SOME OTHER DIRTY SOUNDING THING.
Anyway, after that I really sort of lost heart for taking pictures. The belt was on, and fine. Nothing was loose. The drum is hung properly and spins freely. Nothing is jammed in the motor. All the wires are connected and the connections are good. But the shaft coming out of the motor doesn’t spin to drive the belt. The Boy thinks it’s the clutch, my receptionist thinks it might be the timer, and I think I need a grownup.
MY WASHER IS BROKEN!
And all my clothes from the mud race on Saturday are still stuffed in a garbage bag.
*My washer talks like it’s from the early 90’s but it’s newer than that. It just wants to be retro.
** And then we found out Target is open until almost 10 on Sunday nights, which is fucking ridiculous and unfair to its employees if you ask me, but we did get two new pairs of slacks*** and a super mega keen bitchin Millennium Falcon T-shirt
***neither of which got packed for the Boise trip, so, I don’t even.