One year and five days ago, my husband purchased for me a fancy front loader washer and dryer named Bosch. We had had pretty good service from our Bosch dishwasher, so Bob confidently ordered them online, and they were delivered unto us, and I marveled at the clothes which I could watch going round and round.
Yesterday, with two loads to go from our Ohio vacation, the washer showed and error 13 code. After trying a few things, and calling and googling, and more calling today, the repairman will be along probably between 8 and noon on Wednesday, June 10th.
This morning, I dragged the wet, drippy, half-washed, soapy clothes from the broken washer, dumped the clothes in the cooler, and grabbed the two other baskets of dirty clothing and headed to our neighborhood laundry mat. The one closest to my house closed about 6 months ago. So, I motored down to the one south of us, and found a parking spot right by the ramp. This was great for wheeling my cooler of still-soapy clothes into the place. But, I wondered why a razor blade was lying beside my car along with a used bandaide. And the wind had been strong here having blown the trash up along the curb. Staking out four washers, I set the three white loads and one of dark items going after hunting down the attendant who thankfully gave me change for my twenty. The machines only like fives, tens or ones. And in twenty minutes or so, the clothes were all washed and ready to be hauled back home to dry in the still-working Bosch dryer.
One crazy lady doing laundry with her son or keeper babbled to herself in the corner, and insisted one of the washers I was using was not mine. She had seen me add powdered bleach, and I guess she thought I was either being generous or ruining someone else's clothes. Another lady told everyone who would listen that she worked for a men's group home, and did laundry here every day as their dryer was broken. I saw her fold huge bibbs. And another kind lady helped me pry my box from the machine as her hands were thinner.
I sat and knitted, and ate my breakfast of almonds and prunes. And I was sorely tempted to give everything another wash just to make sure they were properly rinsed, but the rinse water looked pretty clear.
The last load is in the dryer. And everything I could fold or hang up is done. I probably clogged the drain of the Bosch by leaving something plastic like a wrapper in my pocket. Or maybe, one of the new fangled dryer sheets embedded with soap got pulled into the drain. I don't know. I just hope it wasn't one of my knitted sweatbands.
Isn't this the most boring story? I am about to put myself to sleep.
I could blog about driving to downtown Dallas last night. Bob worked late and missed a later train, and was going to be even later getting home, so I volunteered to pick him up and then we'd go get his car at the train parking lot, but the traffic was super heavy from Six Flags to Beltline because of a multiple car pile up, and I sat in the parking lot that was I-30 and enjoyed the breeze with all the windows open. Bob probably would have made it home earlier even riding the late train.
I could blog about getting a haircut yesterday so I'd look nice for Hannah's graduation and pictures, and seeing my folks, but this gal whacked off so much, I won't need a haircut for a few months. Whoa. I know the lady whacked off a lot because Bob noticed. And he was so proud of himself for noticing, and said that James would be proud...'cause usually, James notices first.
Saturday, we motor down to College Station and watch Hannah graduate from high school. It will be fun! And while we will have to start early, James and Amber and Ben want to come, too ! They want to ride with us. So, I have the cooler stocked. All we need is a few bags of ice, and we will go make some new memories.
I remember when Hannah was born, and when she was a toddler, and she has the best little giggle. And she was a bridesmaid in our firstborn's wedding, and now she is headed to college. One of only two nieces---the other eight are all guys.