Maladjusted Mondays, #21

NOT Linda.

Greetings! I’m Jan C. Johnson. Thanks for joining the fun here on Maladjusted Mondays, a growing collection of scathing exposés in which I rat out my uncooperative appliances. I originally published these posts on my blog, Joywriting: Everybody Has a Story, where I do occasionally write about something besides my appliances. You can visit me there any time by clicking here.

The following post first appeared on my blog May 11, 2020…

Appliance Agitation

Here we go again… not long ago, I was relaxing on the patio with a good novel while a load of cycling clothes and other truly gross stuff was in the wash. Everything was fine until Brent popped his head out the back door and said, “The washer is making a weird noise.” I sighed and went to check it out.

He was right. It sounded like a cross between a freight train and someone trying to start a car with a run-down battery.

According to the knob, the machine was in the Spin cycle. We opened the lid to find the washed clothes just sitting there, having a spa day in the dirty water that was supposed to be draining out of the tub.

Not cool. (By the way, that damage in the center was from years earlier when I working on a sewing project. Who damages their washing machine while sewing?)

Brent suggested I should be the one to choose the new machine, since I’m the laundry guru. We’d been under “shelter in place” for a few weeks by this time, so I was happy to skitter off to Lowe’s. Brent stayed to fish the Lycra out of its sudsy hot tub. Did I mention he’s a hero?

After two hours of looking at machines/considering pros & cons, I came home to find the bikewear all rinsed and neatly hung on the pool fence. Don’t worry; those little things on the spikes aren’t shrunken heads, just our cycling socks.

I gave Brent the good news that I’d bought a Maytag. It would arrive on the next delivery date. Eleven days away.

A look of horror crossed his face. “ELEVEN DAYS??”

“You seem skeptical.”

“ELEVEN? DAYS?”

“Sure. It’s no problem–I can hand wash whatever we need until then.”

After all, we have a sink in the laundry room. Plus enough T-shirts to last until the week before Thanksgiving. Besides, the dryer still works. I pictured swishing a few lightweight items around in the sink, giving them a good rinse under the spray faucet, and tossing them into the dryer.

Brent pictured my suggestion a little differently:

Re-enactment of an imaginary event. No rocks or laundry were harmed.

Okay, fine. The next morning, I called Lowe’s to cancel the order. Brent researched washing machines and found a local indie dealer who could deliver a Speed Queen the same day. The new machine even has some of the old-school features I like!

And so, our wardrobe maintenance hasn’t missed a beat.

But just watch the rest of the appliances talk the Speed Queen into joining the revolt.

Thanks for reading,

Jan

Maladjusted Mondays, Week 2

NOT Linda.

Greetings! I’m Janice Johnson. Thanks for joining the fun here on Maladjusted Mondays. This series is a collection of scathing exposés in which I rat out my uncooperative appliances. (Thanks to Linda for hosting me!) I originally published these posts on my blog, Joywriting: Everybody Has a Story, where I do occasionally write about something besides my appliances. You can visit me there any time by clicking here.

Without further ado, here is the second post in the series, which first appeared on my blog on April 19, 2011.

Dances With Washers (The Washing Machine)

I think my washing machine has been taking Zumba classes when I’m not looking. And just when I was starting to show my uppity microwave who’s boss, too. It’s all very discouraging. When are my appliances going to start just doing their jobs and then taking the rest of the day off, like everyone else’s?

The washer, a Maytag, used to behave quite responsibly. Fill, wash, spin, fill, rinse, spin some more, STOP. Repeat as needed. It stood next to the dryer, their sides aligned two inches apart and their fronts perfectly even. Just the way I like it; crooked things bug me. Then, a few months ago, I walked into the laundry room to dry the towels, and almost plowed into the washer. It had shimmied itself away from the wall and was standing at a goofy angle, straining its cold-water fill hose to the limit like a Jack Russell terrier pulling at the leash. I leaned down, embraced Maytag with both arms and ooched it back into place.

Then it started messing with me.

After spinning each load of laundry, Maytag would add an extra “cha-cha” step and end up cocked at an odd angle. Sometimes the difference was subtle, and I could just tug a little on one corner to bring it back into line. Other times it would do “The Bump” against the dryer, or nearly squash the laundry basket into the other corner. I got pretty good at leaning into it with one leg extended back for leverage, doing a sort of tango move to coax Maytag back into its proper place. (I learned the hard way to never, ever try moving it while the tub is full of water.)

One evening Brent came home and walked from the garage into the laundry room to find me thus poised, looking like a cross between a ship’s figurehead and Carol Burnett. I must say, I found it a little insulting when he eased back out the door without a word, instead of offering to help.

I’m not sure what to do about Maytag, or why the sudden interest in dancing.

I wonder if I could talk it into taking a ‘spin’ class instead…

No, that would probably not be challenging enough.

Thanks for reading!
Jan