“I am woman hear me roar,” is a phrase I have heard many times in my life, but never really understood fully myself. Yesterday, my laundry routine was put on the back burner, because my washer was making a loud, grinding noise during the spin cycle. My exhausted husband looked it over, after a very long day at work. He took it apart and found money, lint, and a few various treasures (courtesy of my little people) inside the water pump. He also discovered that the lint trap had become dislodged from its home in the pump, adding to the loud noise. He put everything back together, and declared it fixed. He is pretty fast at the whole process, as he has had to perform this kind of service about twice a year for the last 6 years. No matter how vigilant I am about checking pockets, things always sneak through, and every time they do, I promise to be even more vigilant so he doesn’t have to clean out the water pump again.
So today, I started my first load, and then I heard it, a loud knock, knock. I looked high and low, and could not find the source. The knocking continued, and then I heard the now familiar groan from the washing machine. I called my very tired, overworked husband at work.
Me “Hi, did you do something to the washer?”
My husband “Yeah, I fixed it last night, remember?”
Me “Yeah, well it is making this weird knocking sound, and groaning, and now it won’t spin.”
My husband “I bet it’s the lint trap, I wasn’t sure where it went, so I just put it in the hose. I checked for leaks though”.
Me “Oh, when will you be home to look at it?”
My husband “Probably around midnight”.
Me “Never mind, I will figure something out.”
So never having fixed much in the way of well, anything, I thought I would try my hand at washer repair. How hard could it be? I pulled the hoses off, so far so good, dislodged the lint trap from under the drum, placed it back where it actually belonged, then set about returning hoses to pipes. That’s when the trouble began. Taking the clamps off the hoses was a cinch, putting them back on was a nightmare that lasted 2 hours. I pinched, I pried, and I cursed, and even cried just a bit. Then came the brilliant idea to use tension clamps; that worked on the first hose, then the second, then came the third. It was stuck, I could not attach it, no matter how hard I tried, it just would not come close enough to the pipe. Why? Because I had attached the first one too far to the right, so I had to start over. There was much wailing, cursing, and grunting, but nevertheless, I finished. When I was done I was a bloody, soggy (lying next to the very wet laundry in a bucket on my floor), frazzled mess. But I was something else too. I was proud of myself, and I felt empowered. In the past I have always just left the machine fixing and general “guy stuff” to my husband; he likes it, he is good at it, so why not? I have never thought myself capable before either, but today - I am Woman, Hear me roar.
So today, I started my first load, and then I heard it, a loud knock, knock. I looked high and low, and could not find the source. The knocking continued, and then I heard the now familiar groan from the washing machine. I called my very tired, overworked husband at work.
Me “Hi, did you do something to the washer?”
My husband “Yeah, I fixed it last night, remember?”
Me “Yeah, well it is making this weird knocking sound, and groaning, and now it won’t spin.”
My husband “I bet it’s the lint trap, I wasn’t sure where it went, so I just put it in the hose. I checked for leaks though”.
Me “Oh, when will you be home to look at it?”
My husband “Probably around midnight”.
Me “Never mind, I will figure something out.”
So never having fixed much in the way of well, anything, I thought I would try my hand at washer repair. How hard could it be? I pulled the hoses off, so far so good, dislodged the lint trap from under the drum, placed it back where it actually belonged, then set about returning hoses to pipes. That’s when the trouble began. Taking the clamps off the hoses was a cinch, putting them back on was a nightmare that lasted 2 hours. I pinched, I pried, and I cursed, and even cried just a bit. Then came the brilliant idea to use tension clamps; that worked on the first hose, then the second, then came the third. It was stuck, I could not attach it, no matter how hard I tried, it just would not come close enough to the pipe. Why? Because I had attached the first one too far to the right, so I had to start over. There was much wailing, cursing, and grunting, but nevertheless, I finished. When I was done I was a bloody, soggy (lying next to the very wet laundry in a bucket on my floor), frazzled mess. But I was something else too. I was proud of myself, and I felt empowered. In the past I have always just left the machine fixing and general “guy stuff” to my husband; he likes it, he is good at it, so why not? I have never thought myself capable before either, but today - I am Woman, Hear me roar.
From Jen Schroeder Martinez
Niece/Daughter of The Girls
I so got a good laugh from this. As mostly a single mom, I had to fix my own dryer once. It was apart for days, and each little wire had a tag on it matching the place where it was supposed to go back. It worked out OK. I'm just imagining you shrieking when the last hose wouldn't fit. Sorry I'm finding such good humor in your situation. You did get it fixed, after all. Good goin', Girl!
ReplyDeleteAwesome Jen! Welcome to the legions of Women, Mechanized! Keep it up! In spite of our weaker bodies, our minds are keen and able to adapt just as well as a mans. So if it doesn't weigh 200+ lbs, there is no reason we can't fix it! I'm currently working on refinishing (inside and out) a piano. Never done it before, never questioned that I couldn't, although my husband was skeptical. Then again, he didn't know anything about pianos. In the end, he thinks that mechanically, they're fairly simply designed. Keep up the good work and I can't wait to hear about your next conquering!
ReplyDelete