Every day that I put the laundry in the washer, I say a little prayer of thanksgiving that I don't have to go down to the river and pound the wash on a rock to get it clean. I must have forgotten to do so, yesterday! My son had loaded the washer and I was working in the kitchen. Suddenly, there is a NOISE that sounded like either a train or airplane plowing into the house. I raced out to the garage and the washer was tilted and doing a 'dance' and was the source of the awful commotion. I threw myself on the wiggling washer and turned it off. My son and I decided that, perhaps, the towels had bunched up on one side and threw it off balance. We removed half the laundry, rearranged the towels, and tried again. Five minutes later, the train/plane returned. I needed to find a rock by the river to wash the clothes! This is particularly difficult in California as the Santa Ana River hasn't know sufficient water for decades.
Since my husband's job only offers sick leave and not 'sick washing machine' leave, I have some handwashing of laundry to do today. Given the age of the washer the the fact that the repair could well exceed the actual value of our ancient friend, we have to go shopping this weekend in hopes of finding a sale.
In the meantime, besides wringing out wash by hand, I should embroider one of those old-fashioned samplers with a prayer of thanks for the convenience of a washing machine and hang it over the next washing machine to grace my garage. I'm learning . . . never take anything for granted!
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