I have decided there never is an opportune time for appliances to decide to die. I was planning to do my laundry this afternoon after a weekend of family being here to visit. The mound of towels that needed washing was very impressive. (In a sad way).
I put some work jeans into the machine and left it to do it’s job. When I came back in the house I could smell burning rubber……this is never a good sign! I ran to the laundry room and discovered my washer smoking, making a squealing noise, and NOT spinning for the spin cycle.
I have no idea if it is just the belt or something like the transmission. My husband’s theory is to go and look at new ones as this one is 12+ years old. It probably has paid it’s dues doing that many years of farm laundry.
Thinking about washing machines brings back some fond and some not so fond memories of the first machine I used as a new bride. My mom in law gave us her vintage Maytag wringer washer. She used this machine for her family until she got an automatic.
I will never forget the time my husband left to go hunting and I went to the basement to do laundry. I put the agitator in the machine and heard an odd squeaking. When I took the agitator back out and looked inside with a flashlight I discovered a bat! Not a Louisville slugger but a living breathing mouse on wings! I did not get any laundry done that day……
I also found that if the wringer part of this machine does not release the only way to get your fingers out of the wringer is to put it in reverse and back them out. That is something you only do once and wish you hadn’t even done it that many times.
Once we moved to the farm I got an automatic that lasted quite a few years. I would hate to guess how many loads of cloth diapers I put through that machine.
When my oldest son was probably 3 years old I discovered him in the entry, on a chair, playing in the washer as it was running. (This was back in the day when there was no safety features that shut the washer off when the lid was opened.) Prior to playing in the washer he had dropped a couple dozen eggs out of the egg basket onto the floor. Once he had accomplished that he proceeded to climb on the chair and snag diapers as they swirled around in the wash machine. He then tossed them, wringing wet and soapy, onto the slimy egg covered entry floor. I remember laughing because there really was not much else I could do. At least I laughed until I tried to clean the slime and found that egg white just sort of keeps smearing around and is hard to wipe up.
My husband is full of good suggestions on what to do in my crisis moment of being washing machine deprived. His ideas run the gamut from taking the laundry down to the river and beating it on some rocks to hauling out the old Maytag out of the back of the shed……..I think I will just go shopping for a new machine. It could be my sense of adventure has dulled over the years.
A new machine might not be as “exciting” as using a vintage Maytag but I am okay with that.
“You don’t realize
how many clothes you have,
until you wash them.”