Sweet god save me. We had just gotten home from work and I was off in my office playing Skyrim. When I heard this squeaking. I walk out into the kitchen. The squeaking continues. I ask Scott what the hell he is going on. It sounds like he has captured a giant rodent and is poking it with a stick. Repeatedly. Then he is all like, that's the washer. It's squeaking.
So I go back to playing Skyrim because those dragons are not going to kill themselves. After about two minutes, Scott returns and informs me that the washer has broken again. And it smells like burned rubber.
Which probably means the direct drive coupler has burned out AGAIN.
Which meant that I had to order a new one. So, you know when you have been up since three am and your brain doesn't want to work anymore and it feels like you are trying to think through a layer of sticky gooey honey? But you have to think because your washer is laying dead in your hallway with a belly full of clothes and you are an adult now so you have to fix it?
No, just me?
Anyway, the internet was not very helpful, and the only thing it would tell me was that I had probably bought a bad coupler from the Lowes. Which is, if anybody was keeping track, the exact same place I had just order one from again. Because ha ha ha. Learning is for suckers.
So now I have a washer that is full of water and clothes, because of course it died while it was agitating, which also really makes me wonder what the fuck. I would think that motherfucking spin cycle would be the thing to destroy the coupler, not agitating. Why agitating? Why sweet god won't my washer just stay working for a whole damn month?
It's cursed isn't it?
Anyway, this time, we just left the clothes in it because fuck it and proceeded to ignore it. Except I am running out of clean clothes. Like, really a lot running out of clean clothes. Like my bedroom is being taken over by a tide of clothes. I know I could just, go to laundromat, but I refuse.
Laundromats are like being forced to pay in change to get hit on by creepy older dues. Pretty much like a reverse strip club.
Now I'm “washing” my underthings in the dryer with those shitty at home dry cleaning things. Which is awkward because I don't really consider dry cleaned undergarments clean. They are just not dirty. Which leaves them in laundry limbo.
How do you even put away clothes left in laundry limbo? I don't feel right putting them back in the drawer with the real clean clothes. Hell, to I don't even feel really comfortable wearing chemical scoured fabric that close to my crotch.
But you know what they say, when life breaks your washing machine, make lemonade or some shit. Or maybe just use the damn dryer because you have an
dislike of laundromats.
So if anyone needs me, I'll be feeling unclean while I drown in a sea of my own dirty clothes. Or I'll be checking the mail box five times a day for the part that may or may not be what is wrong with with my washer.
You know what?
Fuck it. If anyone needs me I'll be playing Skyrim.