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This was not my original topic of the day, but as I was working on the original post, the noise of the washer distracted me enough that I felt the need to talk about it.  The wicked washer.  It’s on the second floor, where the bedrooms are and all of the clothes are kept.  It makes so much sense.  A second-floor laundry room was one of the best ideas my husband ever had.  I really do love it – the laundry room on the second floor, but not this washer.

I have a Kenmore Elite Oasis Washer which we purchased from Sears a few years ago.  At the time, it was the largest capacity washer that they offered, and between the kids and the husband, I do mountains of laundry.  Every day.  So even though I do not really care about washing machines in general, I have to care about this one.  Because it is here with me and if it is out of service for a few days, the world stops spinning, because the washer has stopped spinning.

The Wicked Washer

Here’s what happens with the washer.  First, it gets stuck when there are 17 minutes left until the wash is finished.  Never 16 or 18, always 17.  Every time.  So, I have to babysit it.  I can’t leave the house when it’s running or forget about it for any length of time because it will continue to Rinse forever, until I push the “Stop” button because it is stuck on 17.  I have to remember to listen for the “stuck” sound, a gentle, repetitive thud, and then turn it off and reset it.  Second, when it starts the Drain and Spin cycle right after I have reset it, it sounds like a combination of a jet engine starting up and a spinning washer full of sneakers.  And it’s not either of those.  And it sounds like that every time.  Third, it doesn’t clean the clothes very well.  And I just don’t like it.

I am convinced that it was a lemon when we bought it.  I tried to tell that to Sears and Whirlpool, but neither one cared.  It was repaired a few times within the first year but parts were not included, only labor or vice versa.  It never got fixed.  It still works, but it is not fixed.  And by the fourth time that I had to call the repair man, the warranty had run out and we had already spent so much on repairs that the cost of a fourth one added to the cost of the first three repairs would probably add up to as much as we would spend to buy a new washer.

Which, we will have to break down and do, eventually.  When I mention the washer problems to my husband or he happens to be home and hears the roar of the machine, he likes to remind me that having a washer, even this one, is better than having to take the laundry down to the creek that runs behind our house to wash it.  Yes, true.  But maybe we can move to Paris (without our washer) and I can pound my laundry on the stones of the Left Bank.  A girl can dream, can’t she?

P.S.  My original post was going to be about meeting an old friend for lunch today.  Perhaps I can post that later tonight, once I get all of this laundry done!

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