Tuesday, February 12, 2013

I am the Champion of the Washing Machine.

We fixed the washer. As we all remember, I had order a direct drive coupler from the Lowe's sight unseen. Meaning that we had not actually looked at the machine to determine what was wrong. Like you do. I had just made a guess based on what the symptoms were. And then I prayed. Well, yesterday we came home to find that the coupler had arrived. Which meant that today we had to install it.

The easiest way to take the washer apart of course being the drag the entire thing out onto the deck.

Did I say easy? First off being in a tiny mobile home hallway means that we couldn't open the door because the washer was in the way. Even if we pushed it up against the wall. The only way we could make this work was to remove the shelf beside the washer and then slide it into the corner. Scott decided that we should also use the hand truck to move it so we wouldn't tear up the shitty vinyl flooring that I hate.*

Of course both the tires on the hand truck were flat because life. So while Scott went to reinflate the tires I cleared off and moved the shelf. I found things on that shelf. Things. I had thought the shelf was mostly cleaning supplies, but I also found two things of spray paint, about six tubes of caulk, lamp oil, paint stripper, a cardboard shoe box filled with tiny bottles of glue, and a mason jar filled with some unidentifiable liquid. Fun. Of course this being a mobile home, I just shoved all of this shit into the closest available room. Which was of course the bedroom. Because when I think sleeping, I think dangerous chemicals.

I didn't realize until I had cleaned off most of the shelf that maybe piling all this shit along both sides of the bed was a bad idea because guess who was sleeping under it.

Yup. The dog.

My solution was to tell him not to eat or lick any of it.

Which is why I can never have children.

Anyway, it was at this point that we realized that if we unhooked the water drain tube thing from the washer it was going to flood the room. Luckily Scott found out that you could remove the tube from the wall, and hook it over the top of the washer. Less lucky was the tube flying off the top of the washer at our first attempt to lift it with the hand truck. So of course we had to drag the washer out onto the deck in super fast motion. Once it was safely outside I ripped two towels out of the cabinet and threw them on the floor and smeared them around. Then I realized the towels were not really that wet. Then I noticed that there was a forth of an inch gap between the wall and floor. Which is where all the water had gone.

Motherfucking great. That won't come back to haunt me at all.

Then we watched the repair video I had found for direct drive washers, assembled the tools and began. It was pretty easy to do, although for me, the whole time I was concerned that the suspiciously together looking direct drive coupler was not in fact the problem. It wasn't until we took the pump off and the shattered plastic pieces that was once the coupling fell into Scott's hands that I realized that I had been right.

I am not sure, but angels may have appeared at that moment.

Putting the new one in and putting the washer back together was surprisingly easy. Most things were held on by clips, not bolts, and it acted like it was designed to be taken apart and put back together. So In no time we had it reassembled, cleaned and ready to go. There was a brief break in which I had to vacuum out the dryer vent since it was RIGHT THERE, and then we put the washer back into place and reconnected it.

It was the moment of truth.

We put the towels we had used to clean the floor in it set the settings and turned it on.

And it made another terrible noise.

You know that feeling where optimism and hope come crashing down around you like panes of glass and the metaphorical shards cut you up? I pretty much had that feeling. Then we had to lean it up to make sure that Scott had reconnected the wiring to the motor. Then we looked at it some more. Then Scott went “oh shit” reached over and turned the water valves back on.

Let's just leave it at I didn't murder him and bury his body in the woods.

Anyway it worked just fine after that.

For once.

*It's right up there with carpet, in flooring that Holly hates with an oddly large amount of passion.


  1. Hooray for a working washer! Which I actually said out loud, to no one in particular, in the middle of the empty house just because I'm so glad something went right for you.

  2. And "it acted like it was designed to be taken apart and put back together".

    Everything should be like that. Every damn thing.

  3. I SO LOVE YOU! (Don't tell Brett) You make me laugh so hard. "Mother-Fucking great. That won't come back to haunt me." Love it. I imagine you saying all this totally dead pan.

    1. Yep. That's pretty much how I talk in real life. Dead pan.

  4. Woot for a working washer!

    Also, I spent way too much time wondering what all the tiny bottles of glue were for...why would you need an entire shoe box of them? WHY? That's the sort of thing that'll keep me up at night.