My washing machine has a mind of it’s own. It decides when it feels like spinning or if it even wants to wash at all. *Insert sexist joke here ;)*
For a while I was washing in my bathtub using a broom handle and and the shower to do the ‘rinse cycle’. Due to it being in winter, the clothes would then take two days to dry. Especially because I usually don’t get the energy up for household chores until the afternoon, if at all. I am so glad that during this time there was no gastro bugs in the Funny Farm house.
When that got old I started leaving my washing until the weekend and doing it at DP’s house. This really put a dampner on the lay in bed hangover caused by excessive alcohol consumption ritual we had going on. I had to be all dometicated and shit.
One day I decided to test out the tempremental washing machine and see if it had decided that it was finished being on strike yet. Surprisingly it sort of spun, well at least enough to swish the detergent all through the clothes instead of the 4 or so items that were sitting in close proximity to the detergent. Upon taking the washing out, I discovered there was something stuck between the internal and external tubs. I pulled it a bit and it started to come out. With a bit of pushing, shoving and pulling I managed to get it out. Now the washing machine didn’t work AT ALL.
At this point I decided to be all he-woman, figured I had nothing to lose and pulled the washing machine apart to see if there was anything else stuck inside. I managed to pull it apart, cleaned out any build up and started the process of putting the machine back together. By this stage I was all ‘I am woman hear me roar’…right up until I dropped the screwdriver in between the internal and external tubs. Cue string of profanities that drew DS from whatever he was doing to come and investigate what I was doing. Shit was not good.
The space between the two tubs was about 10cm so obviously I wasn’t going to fit my giant arm down there.
Plan B. Tongs. The tongs could just fit down but they weren’t long enough. Sadly I didn’t have any BBQ tongs or I would have been all over retrieving that pesky screw driver.
Plan C. Put the washing machine on it’s side and see if that made a difference to me being able to reach it. It didn’t.
Plan D. By this stage if I was stupid enough to have a swear jar, I would have enough coin to buy a whole new washing maching AND and entire set of screwdrivers so shit was really not going good. Kicking the washing machine just resulted in the screwdriver going further down the tub.
Plan E. I found two sticks that used to hold a couple of fabric cubes together and attempted to reach the screwdriver using them like a pincer. Of course the sticks were too short. Of course I swore a hell of a lot more.
Plan F. I really had my thinking cap on now. I was wondering how much it would cost to dump this stupid washing machine versus having to tell DP that I fucked up and I needed his help. Cue ‘I am woman hear me roar’ and I finally came up with something that worked!
I used the sticks from Plan E, and attached an allen key onto the end of each one using a ton of sticky tape because heaven forbid I lose two more tools. I hooked each Allen Key under the handle of the screwdriver and ever so carefully extracted the offending screwdriver from inside the washing machine! I was so over the moon I nearly cried.
After screwing in the rest of the screws, I chucked a couple of items of clothing in the washing machine and IT WORKED! I was back to being all ‘I am woman hear me roar’ and now I can wash in my own machine again. It still randomly decides when it wants to work but it does the job.
Are you handy around the house or a DIY disaster? Let me know your best and worst forrays into the world of DIY.