Tuesday, 16 August 2011

Day #149: The one where you choose your own adventure

Well people, the washing machine saga ended today. I feel slightly sad knowing the issue has been resolved - problematic washing woes and rotten clothes have become something I could count on. What will I do with my time now that I don't need to re-wash, re-hang, and re-fold loads two or three times each?

You will be thrilled to know; however, that the new machine was not installed without a laugh. As you all know, we whooped and hollered when we were told that we were getting a washer/dryer combo. Fortunately, I did not hold my breath and unfortunately, the new machine arrived and it was just a washer. I guess Jake will have to continue wearing baggy and stretched-out jeans that don't shrink up in the dryer and we will not have the joy of experiencing a wet heat bomb in our kitchen when a load is complete. Oh well, I guess life goes on.

Before the installation team wrapped up this morning, they called us into the kitchen. One of them was holding a washcloth out in front of them like it was the filthy pigeon squatter in Rachel's kitchen. The washcloth was pitch black and dripping with goo. The installation team explained to us that someone had plugged that thing up into a pipe leading from the kitchen sink. Now, I am not a forensics specialist nor do I even watch CSI; however, it doesn't take an FBI agent to solve this mystery.

You know what, I am going to give you all a minute to contemplate the facts:
Think about the floating tortilla chip...
the plumber team in turbans...
the black and gooey washcloth...
the stink in the machine....
you fit the pieces together and, only if you want to, scroll down to read my theories. It will be like one of those 'Choose Your Own Adventure' books from the 80's....

In this 'Choose Your Own Adventure' section, feel free to select the ending of your choice.

Ending #1:
Travel with me back to April when the men in turbans arrived to re-route the pipe connecting our sink to our washing machine. They looked in our machine, saw the food debris, and knew there was a problem. They also saw our tiny kitchen, felt the spring-time heat, and knew that fixing this was going to be a big job in such a small space. They heard that Trevor asked me for tea and biscuits...the men in turbans had a tough decision to make. Should they spend the day fixing the stinky mess or should they band-aid the problem and join Trevor for tea? Option two was the winner. Those men in turbans grabbed the closest washcloth and jammed that thing into the the pipe between the sink and washing machine. Problem solved! Ever since, that blockage has kept out MOST of the food and filtered the rest. A few weeks ago, the poor washcloth just couldn't saturate anymore dirty dish water and finally blew - hence, our rotten clothes. Now, it's just a theory...you can decide for yourself! Choose your own adventure! But, how else do you explain the mess on our hands?

Ending #2:
Back in April, I went into the kitchen to make some lunch. In an effort to carry all of the ingredients over to the counter, I knocked over Jake's most prized possession: a glass jar of left over beer from his first baseball game at Wrigley Field. The accident happened in slow motion. I could see the jar circling in a vortex through the air. I threw the lunch meat and bread to the side as I reached heroically for the jar. In the back of my mind I remembered the glass cake plate...the shattering sound...the blood...the stitches...the surgery...instead of grasping for the jar, I threw myself in the opposite direction and buried myself underneath the bag of deli turkey. When I heard the sound of shattering glass and smelled the warm aroma of stale beer, I knew I had made a mistake. How was I going to tell my loving husband what I had done? I decided I couldn't reveal the truth. I grabbed the washcloth off of the counter and mopped up my evidence. I threw the glass away and told Jake I had dropped a jar of pickles. However, I knew he would be able to smell that Chicago Old Style beer from a mile away - stale or not. So, I took the saturated washcloth and jammed it up a pipe behind the washing machine. "He won't ever look there!" I said to myself in a panic. I knew the beer was leaking into the machine as soon we started to smell like Wrigley Field when getting dressed. However, it wasn't until this morning, when the washing machine installation team unearthed my evidence, that Jake ever doubted my lie about the raccoon coming in through the kitchen window and stealing his jar of Old Style. Now, it's just a theory...you can decide for yourself! Choose your own adventure! But, how else do you explain the mess on our hands?

Ending #3:
We should have seen it coming...how could we have missed the obvious calling card of the evil genius, Juan ‘Picante’ Valencia. You leave the confines of the south-western United States and you quickly forget the crime and corruption that Valencia and his underground syndicate brought upon the people. What we didn’t know was that our landlord Paul had somehow gotten mixed up with this mad man, and was starting to feel the clever wrath of his enemy. Picante Valencia is not known for being a violent man. He is clever and cunning, and outwits his opponents through a slow, methodical draining of their assets. He never reveals this tortuous plan, until one day you stumble upon his signature calling card. One lone tortilla chip. What we so flippantly disregarded as food draining into our washing machine, was actually the last revealing moment of Picante’s plan to drain Paul of his money, and undermine his entire London operation. Picante knew that we would continue to call Paul, and have him send repairman after repairman out to complete the never ending work on the Money Pit. So he cleverly infiltrated the London contactors union, and corrupted the workmen to sabotage Paul’s units. The faulty shower? The spider infestation? The leaking drain? The smelly washing machine? Of course, these were all the workings of Picante’s henchmen. Well your plots been unravelled Picante. We’ve found your gooey, smelly rag, and have brought in outsiders to perform a full and complete repair of the washing machine. We will be on the lookout for you, and your next attack on the Money Pit. But know we are on to you, and we will bring you down eventually. Now, it's just a theory...you can decide for yourself! Choose your own adventure! But, how else do you explain the mess on our hands?

Lessons Learned: 1) A washcloth will not keep the food out forever, 2) Jake will be wearing baggy jeans until we move back to America, 3) In London, tea time trumps all, 4) Juan ‘Picante’ Valencia is a real trouble maker.



  2. Perhaps by the time we move back, I will have regressed even further down the washing technology chain. It's possible you will be able to find me scrubbing our clothes on a classic washing board or at the very least using the textured stones in an outdoor pool. I think I might be able to even start making my own soap.