The Washing Machine Saga Continues…

10 03 2012

So, as much as I wanted to put off dealing with my leaking washing machine, I decided to go ahead with contacting a repairman. I brought the bronchitis back with me from my trip, and have been steadily feeling worse, instead of better. So I had high hopes that I’d call the repairman, he’d immediately fix the washing machine, and I’d be able to do the loads upon loads of laundry that I brought back from my trip…in advance of the next trip I have. On Tuesday. Ugh.

But anyway.

I have a Maytag stackable washer/dryer. So while I pictured the Maytag man of the commercials (who never has to work because the machines are so well made), it occurred to me that I should go through them to get the machine serviced. And that was the easy part – I logged into their website, found the section I needed, plugged in my model and serial number and scheduled an appointment.

Unfortunately, the appointment wasn’t as rewarding – the repairman was great. He showed up dead on time (12pm in a 12-3pm window I’d been given by phone), and checked out the machine in a few minutes. Of course, just his being there cost me $150 (painful), and then he figured out what the problem was.

I had feared that it was my fault, because I’d washed my comforter in there recently, and maybe caused a clog or imbalance in the machine. But fortunately, it wasn’t me (phew) – the timer on the machine is busted. The timer is what tells the machine that it’s full of water and to stop filling the basin. Since mine wasn’t working, it wasn’t really telling the machine to stop filling with water. Hence, the leaking.

So a new timer is what’s needed. Unfortunately, it’s one of the more expensive parts (though cheaper than replacing the whole thing), and the repairman didn’t have one on his truck. So it has to be ordered, the part shipped directly to me, and then I call him to set up an appointment to replace it. Only then do I get my washer back.

So despite spending most of today in bed or on the couch, I’ll be pulling myself up by my bootstraps tomorrow to head over to my parents’ to wash all my clothes. Good thing I just left them in my suitcase. It could be worse, I know. But it could be better. First world problems, right?




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