Nice folks

10 February 2004 at 20:43 Leave a comment

We have become very attached to our washing machine.

Besides the sheer convenience of being able to do ones laundry at home, our machine also has a personality, that is to say, it needs a lot of attention.

A couple years ago it went “poof”, blowing a fuse and requiring a new motor. We got the repairman to come and fix it, waited the usual 2 weeks to get the part in, he came back and got it done, smirking the whole time, as all repairmen smirk at us. I suppose they find our bad French very amusing.

It wasn’t two weeks later that it went “poof” again, and, boy, were we not in the mood to get it repaired again. So we did the laundromat thing and waited until we got the gumption up to take other action. One very hot summer day, bored, we decided to tackle it. We got it out, took the lid off (neither bb nor I had ever looked in the guts of a washing machine) and we could see that the lid to a little part had ‘blown’ and a couple wires were dangling. We reconnected the wires, closed the lid on the part, plugged it in, turned it on and “poof!”: fuse blown. We opened it up, everything looked fine, tried it again and “presto!”: fixed.

A few months later it was shimmying way to hard, so we opened it up again and noticed that instead of belts holding the tumbler suspended it just had two bits of styrofoam! And one had slipped down. Put styrofoam back, no more shimmying. By this point we’re really enamored of this silly washing machine – we can fix it ourselves!

But about a month ago it happened again: “Poof” and circuit breaker flipped and the lid blown off the part. But this time there was no putting it back together. Well, we put it together, but it knocked out the electricity in the entire apartment every time, so, we gave up.

So, last Saturday bb got online and found the part, wrote some e-mails, and on Monday we got a phone call (always a source of tension): “Oui, hello?”

“Parlez-vous Anglais, Monsieur?”

“Oui, I mean, yes, I speak English,” and he’s thinking, “Oh, boy, do I speak English!”

It was a woman at the factory – in Poland. They discussed the part, making sure they were both talking about the same thing, and she asked how many he needed, “Just the one.”

“Just give me your address and I’ll just mail you one. That would be a lot simpler then trying to get you in contact with the sales people. They’re in Italy.”

So, as I write, I can hear the washing machine churning away…

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Entry filed under: huh.

Spring fever a quiet Valentine’s day

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What I’ve been reading:

  • James Boswell, The Life of Samuel Johnson, L.L.D. (London, 14 King William Street, Strand: William P. Nimmo, 1876). 3 years ago
  • Marsilio Ficino, Letters of Marsilio Ficino, v. 3, trans. Language Dept. School of Economic Science, London (New York: Gingko Press, 1985). 4 years ago
  • Italo Calvino, Six Memos for the Next Millennium (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1988). 4 years ago
  • Stephanie Kallos, Broken for You (New York: Grove Press, 2004). 4 years ago
  • Marsilio Ficino, Letters of Marsilio Ficino, v. 2, trans. Language Dept. School of Economic Science, London (New York: Gingko Press, 1985) 4 years ago

T. Anderson Painter

I am a misanthrope. No one ever believes me, but this seems to prove my point.

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