The Machines Have Already Taken Over

When a major appliance breaks down, I feel like I am helpless and lost in the wilderness. How will I cope? Will I even survive? Oh, the drama! Oh, the panic! I am lucky to have a mechanically inclined boyfriend. Every time something breaks, he fixes it. (knock on wood) He opens things up and makes a lot of noise with his tools and shows me parts of things and says technical words while holding it and pointing. All I really know is that he makes a mess and then puts it all back together and somehow it works again.

This was played out exactly with our washing machine this week. It was making a terrible noise, though it was continuing through the cycles, pretending everything was fine. Everything was certainly not fine. The last time we had a laundry-related breakdown, it was very difficult. Having a washer and dryer in my home means I can do laundry without having to feel well. I can load the washer, lay down, hang the wet clothes, lay down, load the washer, lay down, and so on, and manage to actually get stuff done without it wiping me out for days, like a trip to a laundromat does. Working, in-home laundry machines give me the freedom to use those spoons on other oft-neglected chores, or to spend time with loved ones, exercise, find inner peace, write something amazing or take a bike ride.

So, when the washer is threatening to break down, so am I. We've had to call for service before, when the problem was too complicated for us to solve with my boyfriend's ingenuity and my google-fu. It took weeks for it to get fixed that time. It was miserable. My parents live close enough to I was able to use their machines, but it was still quite the task, gathering, hauling, sorting, cleaning, being in someone else's house, repacking, more hauling, more sorting, and then lots of collapsing and whining. And then, hilariously, my boyfriend will find a secret stash of dirty socks and will FILL one of our huge hampers and suddenly I have more laundry to do and I think it may have been a survival skill for my man to learn to fix our appliances.

So, this time, he just dove right in there and pulled some weird bits of stuff out of the pump (I think) and now it's wonderful again, cleaning our clothes without a complaint.

Which brings me to the picture I drew for the occasion:

This picture is entitled My Boyfriend Fixed the Washer, Hooray. That's the boyfriend in the corner  there, all proud of himself with his tools. The washer is the smiling box. It is pleased that it will once again be able to fulfill its life mission without making horrible metal clanking noises. On the left there are the hampers full of dirty clothing and across the top, there is a clothesline of freshly washed items. I am in the center of the picture, grinning scarily, because I don't know how to draw enthusiasm without it being terrifying, and I am clicking my heels, as one does during moments of extreme joy. Nothing in the picture is to scale. I hope it doesn't give anyone nightmares. 

You're welcome, Jessica.