Monday, August 12, 2013

The Not So Great Unwashed

     Every once in awhile, my washing machine makes a very sad noise, and it is always trouble.  It usually happens at midnight when I am washing a child's uniform for an 8:00 game the next morning, or packing for a long awaited vacation.  This time, right on schedule, I hear my washer groan as I prepare to send my son back to college.
     I know some families spend a lot of time shopping for new appliances (if you believe what you see on television, and why wouldn't you?) but that is not how we do it.  Usually, when we need a new appliance, I get in my car and drive to Abt, and one of their excellent salesmen is sliding my American Express in ten minutes or less.  I mean, what is so complicated?  I need a washing machine.  It needs to clean my clothes.  I don't really care what it looks like.
     But when I bought my current machine, I made a mistake.  It's not a GE or Whirlpool, or something any old repairman can fix.  It's a Fisher and Paycal.  A wise salesman, noting the size of my children,  told me it was excellent for heavy loads.  When I hesitated, he lowered the price. And in retrospect, I'm sure he won a cash bonus and his photo was up in the break room for getting that misfit off the floor.
     Of course during the sixty seconds I considered my purchase, it didn't occur to me to ask about repairs.
     It turns out that when my washing machine breaks, I call Fisher and Paycal to repair it.  They are located in New Zealand.
     To my knowledge, the Kiwis are not known for their washing machines.
     Every time I call, a very polite New Zealander schedules my service.  They always pronounce my town "WilMATE." They never come quickly.  I imagine they have one service person serving a six state area, and he's driving to my house from Nebraska. Unless of course he's flying over from New Zealand.  He'll be here in five days.
    We are running out of clean clothes over here.  I don't care until I run out of clean sports bras.  I know some of you would think, "WOOHOO!  I have the perfect excuse not to exercise!" But on these cool summer mornings, I love to run.  I'm quite religious about it.  It's my only antidote to cake.
     So I'm heading to the laundromat in downtown Wilmette.  Of course I could take my laundry to any of my friends or neighbors--they would be happy to have me.  But where's the blog in that?  Stay tuned.

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