February 9, 2000

DOWN HOME:
When the spin cycle quit,
he was all wrung out
___At first, I thought the washing machine seemed to be taking forever to complete the rinse cycle a wash day or two ago. I could empathize: I used to hide out in the bathroom when Mother wanted me to wash clothes. It takes a long time to do the laundry when you're goofing off.
___But then I smelled the distinctly malevolent odor of melting electrical wires.
___First, the good news. Our ancient Kenmore didn't blow up, catch fire or flood the

MARV KNOX Editor

house. You've probably heard the horror tales, too: The family washer seeks revenge for decades of swilling sweatsocks by spewing sudsy water across the ground floor of the home. And then those folks go shopping for carpet and hardwood floors as well as another washer.
___Now, the bad news. Our washer did indeed go the way of all flesh-- belly up. Or in this particular case, spin-cycle up.
___The Bible says heaven is a place where moth and rust do not corrupt. So, we can assume our old washer went to the "other place."
___Two thoughts kept crossing my mind as I yanked the old heap out from the wall: A washer full of wet clothes sure does weigh a lot. And how much is this going to cost?
___After I cleaned up an oily/rusty puddle where the washer once stood and removed its back panel, I set about to see if I could save the spin cycle.
___About the time I decided a burned-out solenoid should be replaced, I also decided this washer could cost me a lot more than expensive parts and a ruined Saturday afternoon. Because just as I started talking about repairing the washer, Joanna started talking about having me committed.
___Some would say my wife knows me well and understands my inherent weaknesses. In this particular case (there are others, of course), that would be a mechanical aptitude measured only in negative numbers.
___I prefer to think that after 18 years and some-odd months, the woman wanted a new washer. And any lame excuse--like a stuck spin cycle, rusty oil and smoking wires--would do.
___So, she went shopping without me. I just couldn't bring myself to do it. Not that I begrudge the concept of owning a washer. Our old model improved our quality of life like nothing aside from an automobile and plumbing. But buying a washer is about as much fun as cleaning dustbunnies from the bathroom floor. It's annoying as all get-out, but sometimes you've just got to do it.
___Still, our dearly departed washer gave us years of faithful service. It cleaned a zillion loads of clothes and never complained until it just couldn't go on. When I come to the end of my days, I hope the Lord will say I was as dependable as that old washer.
___

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