We had the laundry assembly line working full tilt on Saturday...until the clothes dryer refused to dry. In fact, it refused to turn at all. We knew it was getting electricity because the light still lit up so we guessed it was some sort of overheating (given the 90 degree weather we were having, the extra work from a week's worth of dirty laundry being run through, and the dog and cat hair of five years building up in the machine *blush*). We were right. Turns out the heating fuse blew because of all the lint and hair in that thing.
The repair man came out last night and I could have kissed him when he proclaimed that it was FIXED. I even tipped him $10 on a $95 bill that included labor already. I was so happy!
And then my happiness turned to despair. About an hour after the repair guy left, my husband came out of the kitchen (yes, our washer and dryer are in our kitchen...old farmhouse...you make do...a fact that will be corrected in our renovation project when we install a laundry room upstairs) and proclaimed, "It's not working."
I wanted to strangle him. What do you mean it's not working? The GUY said it was working! What did you DO to it? Oh, ok...I know it's not YOUR fault. But you'd better call HIM and get his ass back here to fix it! He SAID it was FIXED!
I'm afraid I became slightly hysterical. In my defense, my hysteria is somewhat justified in the clothes I currently have air drying on the backs of chairs throughout the house and the fact that I'm currently spending my nights wrapped under a Thomas the Tank Engine Comforter that is designed for a twin bed (ours is a king). Thank heavens we had decided to wash and dry a load of underwear early on Saturday...before the breakdown...so we're not running around commando. But still...
The lady at the repair shop said someone will come by tonight. She said it most likely just slipped the belt (since you can now hear the motor running, but the tub doesn't spin). But I'm not convinced I should let the guy get away until I at least get a dry load out of the thing.
Now I understand how people hatch those crazy plans to shackle someone in their basement.