Laundry Battles.

ImageYesterday I watched a two-minute instructional video on YouTube, the font of all-knowledge-you-never-learned-in-school. The topic? “How to open a washer that’s stuck shut.” 

In the old days, when I went to my grandmother’s beach house, the old rusty GE washing machine made tons of noise, used tons of water, and twisted clothes into submission with its dragon-claw agitator right in the middle. If you wanted to watch the hypnotizing whirling and swirling, you just opened the metal lid and whoosh whoosh gurgle gurgle, clean clothes happening!

Now, washers are supposed to behave better. They use less water and energy. You can’t drop half a pb&j into them as you watch them in action because they lock shut, their little glass door separating you from the clean clothes party. I didn’t mind this lock-out until I came to Menorca and gained an enemy: the 2.2 kilo washing machine. Now, I don’t know if the capacity is really only 5 lbs of clothes, but I would hazard a guess that it can’t be much more. My American, super-capacity laundry machine took 40 minutes a load and reliably unlocked at the end of the cycle. The Siemens frenemy in my current residence takes its sweet old time and does less; sounds Spanish, doesn’t it? And, the worst part is, when I overloaded it (twice. That was before I learned my lesson), it stays LOCKED. It doesn’t centrifuge your clothes. It just holds them hostage in Aloe-fresh laundry water, in sight but terribly out of reach. When all of your underwear is in one load, you understand the panic this provokes!

Hence, the YouTube video. Unfortunately, the fishing-line opening technique didn’t work for me. Fortunately, the washer just decided to open on it’s own, leaving me to rinse and wring the rest. As my students say, “The struggle is real.”

In other news, I’ve been to the library twice. I’ve sipped thick hot chocolate in a nice cafe at 10 pm. I’ve made a bad batch of fried peppers (cheap aluminum pan=cheap aluminum peppers). I’ve chitchatted with friends in person and on the phone. And, as I’d do [almost] anywhere in the world, I’ve been on a walk listening to funny podcasts. So, normalcy abounds. Wish me luck with the washer, though.

At Boinder (the late-night hot chocolate café).


Maybe this person has a better relationship with their washer.


Walking to the library on a cloudy morning. 











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