I used the wet/dry vac to get the water out of the broken Maytag washer. I didn’t want to haul the wet clothes out first so I put the end of the hose in the potato ricer bucket and it worked pretty well. Do you know how much water comes out of a washer with clothes in it? Two big vac-fulls. And then when the clothes water dripped out (I put them on a rack inside the washer) I got another half vac full.

Of course this is boring; I know that. What would anyone expect from AmeliaJake after she discovered the washer was broken and then wrestled with a rubber anaconda-like hose? We have a tiny laundry room and to work on the washer, you have to remove the dryer and that means finessing it through a doorway. To do this you have to climb up and over the washer and dryer a couple of times; you regret it when you get behind one and realize you haven’t brought your footstool with you. I had to rock climb my feet up the wall to get the leverage to get on top of the washer. By the time I was done with the dryer and the washer and the lint and the vac and the dripping clothes, I was a filthy mess.

But, if you get a comfortable chair, a cool drink and wash your hands, it is amazing how easily you can tolerate being a filthy mess – sort of like going in-country in swampland, but without the alligators.

Phase Two of this event is getting the repairman to come and then say, “Oh, it’s just a switch. I can fix that in a jiffy.” I am not going to fret about it. Maybe I’ll just become a nudist because at least the shower drain is unclogged. Uh-oh, Rose just said that while I am not fretting, I sound a bit dis-spirited. Yes, it’s true – if I became a nudist I couldn’t wear my orange pants. So I guess I’d better just buck up and get the washer fixed. And we do have to keep Rose’s red and white striped socks clean . . .