My washing machine, aka the Beast, held my underwear and socks hostage last week.
I called the GE Swat team to come help with negotiations regarding my laundry.
They giggled and said they could help "Next Tuesday between 1 and 5pm".
That was five days my poor underwear would have to suffer, locked in the washing machine!
In the meantime, I could unplug it and see if it would rethink it's position on holding my laundry hostage.
The computer brain of the washing machine had locked it up tight and closed the blinds so no snipers would have a shot.
My sweet, gimpy husband suggested that it would give me a legitimate excuse to go buy new underwear and socks.
"But I love my old underwear and socks!!"
In his defense, he had bigger worries than my hostage crisis. Pain was clouding his brain.
As I began to finally have the nervous breakdown that I so rightly deserved, my sister, Jean appeared. She encouraged me to NOT storm the machine and drag it out into the garage and break out my underwear with a sledgehammer.
"I just want my old, top loading, not computer-driven, washing machine back!!!"
I knew the ransom the Front Loading beast would want would be high. Possibly higher than I'd paid for it. I didn't think the sledgehammer idea was such a bad one.
Jean and Lee encouraged me to take a break and eat some dinner. Maybe the loss of electricity would sink in and the Beast would rethink its position and unlock the door.
I ate, but jumped up several times during dinner and checked on my dainties. Each time, the door remained tightly locked. The sledgehammer became more and more appealing.
While I was cleaning up the dishes, Jean announced that she'd reached a deal with the Beast and it had released my underwear and socks. I nearly cried. Evidently I was too close to the situation and my threat of using force had shut down negotiations. I don't know what she said, but I didn't care. I lovingly accompanied my laundry to the warmth and security of the dryer.
Note: This dryer has a criminal past, but has long since been rehabilitated. I trusted it to take care of my laundry now.
But what happened with the Beast? What had made it lose its computer-mind?
Tuesday, the GE Swat team finally showed up. I was prepared for them to take the darned machine away in handcuffs and rid it from my life forever.
The officer in charge suggested that it might not be that its brain had malfunctioned, but that it might just be in pain. We discussed the things that led up to the hostage situation.
"Have you ever cleaned the lint trap?"
"A friend suggested that to me, but the manual that came with the Beast shows no indication of a lint trap. I think its lost its computer mind."
"No, they have a lint trap. Let's check that before we decide to shoot to kill."
After a bit of work, and some wet negotiation on the part of the officer, the lint trap was exposed.
The poor Beast!!!
Its lint trap was so full of yuck, that it must have been in horrible pain. No wonder if wasn't working right.
Dog hair, people hair, a necklace, $3.29 in change, gum wrappers, a hair Scrunchy, a couple Legos, a key to adjust the sprinkler heads, and two rubber bands.
It hadn't lost its mind after all. My washing machine was back to its old self again. It apologized by doing a load of laundry with precision and care, just like old times.
What made me title this "Giddy!"?
New computer brain for the Beast: $400+
Cleaning the lint trap: $95
Wouldn't you be giddy, too?
PS...It occurred to me, thanks to Linda at 7MSN ranch, that I could let others know where their lint traps are. If you look back at the picture, you'll see a panel at the bottom of the front of the machine. Nearly touching the ground, are 3 screws that hold that panel on. Unscrew them, and have an old towel and cookie sheet handy. You'll likely see a cylindrical thingy. Pull it out, gently and expect some water to come with it. Inside the cylinder is where you'll find the lovely stuff that chokes the washing machine's ability to drain.