The Day My Washer became Scrap Metal

I have to say, I think the machine deserves a few words. A eulogy or a poem, some sort of tribute is due.   There ought to be some sort of service for the service rendered by a machine that has been with us only since 2007, but which was subjected to daily and sometimes double daily, and sometimes triple or even quadruple daily duty.  My dryer died three weeks ago and I suspect my washing machine at the time thought, "We can do that?" 

So Friday, it made  a terrific noise, like a jet engine preparing for take off.  Honestly, I came over because whatever it was, I knew it wasn't good.  I opened the machine to find the rim was off and suspected much more.  But I could fix the rim so I did.  For two days I observed said machine and while it took in clothes and water and soap, it did not get the clothes clean.  It did not rotate the drum.  So I had an odd Neapolitan mix of dry clothes on top, damp clothes in the middle and sopping wet stuff on the bottom.  I could spin the drum and flip the pile at intervals to keep up appearances and sort of wash the stuff, but I knew a repairman was in my future.
I hate calling repairmen. 

I hate when they come and a thirty second search and fifteen cent part later, they are charging me 60-100 dollars for said repair.   I also hate calling them and an hour later having them pronounce my machine dead and also give me a bill for 60-100 dollars for the diagnosis as deceased.  I never feel like I get my money's worth. 

The pediatricians give out stickers at the end of an appointment and the dentists give out tooth brushes whether or not you had a cavity.  My thinking is, if the appliance is dead, the service man ought to at least play taps or offer you the cathartic option to use their heaviest hammer on said dead machine to get out some frustrations.   Like "Why is it you are crapping out on me?  I've been doing the laundry for ages. I fold everything you wash and I'm not falling apart!"  Though one might argue that this quote alone proves that at least something in me has deteriorated in the past 45 years of living.

So I'm here today to bid farewell to the Bousch Nexxt 500 high efficiency machine.  It did its job as long as I did mine.   I never loved it, but I hate it now.   I do not appreciate its exquisite timing, knowing that we were planning a trip and that I now get to lug laundry to be washed at the mat and needed another errand this week.  It was work while it worked.  It is still work, now that it is not working.  

I shall drink a glass of wine and eat cake.  These extra carbs shall result in my hips having a permanent record of the end of said machine's service.  I resent that too.   Adeiu Bousch!  We shall not meet again. 

P.S. Now my dish washer is acting up.