Repair

We had to have the washing machine repaired, which was probably inevitable after ten years (most of those years with a child). This was, as you might expect, a thoroughly exasperating and irritating experience — it seemed to take weeks just to get someone to come out and diagnose the problem, and then the day before the repair was scheduled, we were left a phone message saying the repair would have to be re-scheduled for another date — two weeks away! It took no end of campaigning and complaining to get someone to come in a few days later, instead.

A replacement part was ordered and delivered to us well in advance. It was a large, shallow cardboard box that seemed to weigh quite a bit. The actual part that needed replacing probably weighed no more than a pound (it fit into the area in the foam padding at the top of the photograph, but it was accompanied by this very large (and very heavy) piece of concrete.

At first I couldn't figure out why it had been sent; then I wondered if it was part of some byzantine scheme to charge more for shipping. (No, I'm not sure how that would have worked, either.) Then I discovered it had been sent on purpose — sort of. It's virtually identical to the very large piece of concrete that's currently installed in my washing machine, save for a thin strip of concrete, no more than a half-inch wide (the instructions refer to it as a "bump") on one side. The instructions give information on how to install it, but no clue as to why it might be necessary. (The person who did the repair ignored it completely.)

But at last, after almost a month, the washing machine works again. Which is just as well, as the milk bottle of quarters I had been accumulating over the past several years is just about empty. Now it can be put back on the shelf in my closet and I can slowly fill it again, with the change from my pocket.

(Oh, and after all that? Now the spin cycle doesn't work.)