Appliance Murder. Yes, your Honor, I'm guilty.
Here is a little life blog. Because it’s not always yoga and bikes…
We bought our house in 2000 and moved in three weeks before our son’s third birthday in February. Of course it had to be February. Doesn’t everyone love moving in the winter? Apparently we do. The first move to our little village was in December 1997, two weeks before Christmas. We will not do that again…but I digress.
We bought the house with a couple of already older appliances. The washer, dryer and our geriatric workhorse of a boiler—an American Standard package boiler to be specific, from around 1965, and it is amazing. Both the washer and dryer are Kenmore, probably already ten years old at the time. We had to replace the washer about half way through our tenure in the house but the dryer? It is a beast. There is only one electronic sensor, the timer dial control clicks and there are only three other buttons:
Temperature selection (there are only four) and,
The “Done” buzzer. Which is so loud it is heart attack inducing even two floors away, we never, ever use it.
Mondays are what I like to call “House Day”. I take the day to do household chores, laundry, linen changes, cleaning, re-organizing, all things Chez Browlton. It’s like a self-care day for the abode. I love all things cleaning and order so it is basically hours of meditation. This past Monday, I started the laundry as usual. First air-drying things then the white load. Whites washed and dried, check. When I put the next load in the dryer, closed the door and pressed the “On” button. My finger depression was greeted with a loud screechbuzzsqueal sound. Clearly an indication something was wrong, so what did I do? I pressed the button three more times. Of course!
Two more times, screechbuzzsqueal, the third time? Silence. Crap, I killed the dryer. OH NO! REALLY CRAP! I KILLED THE DRYER AT THE BEGINNING OF THE COVID19 SOCIAL DISTANCING! Insert string of expletives here, Sam Jackson Style (see previous blog on profanity here).
I went upstairs let my faboo hubby know I killed the dryer at what could possibly the most inconvenient time EVER in the history of appliance murder. I decided to see if my go-to appliance guy (we’ll call him MiracleMagicalM, so MMM) to see if he was making house calls.
First miracle, MMM was in fact making calls, with great care and caution.
Second miracle, MMM could come tomorrow.
Third miracle, when MMM arrived, he literally laid hands on the dryer, pushed the button and it turned on (this happened once with the washer as well, but that’s another blog). But he said he heard a groan before it started, then he started it again with the screechbuzzsqueal. It was like the dryer was begging MMM for help. Diagnosis? New motor, four drum rollers, drive belt, some idling thingie and a new thermostat. All this can be yours for a little over $375.00. Choice? $375+ or a new machine that may or may not be delivered any time soon because, COVID19 and starts at around $800 and essentially has the same guts. We’re all in at $375+! Wh-hoo!
Fourth miracle, MMM had all the parts in his truck. Ninety minutes later? We basically had a brand new dryer.
Home Day. Next Monday. Thank you MiracleMagicalM!