The Conversation Spin Agitation.

“The washer isn’t spinning!” Some would claim that I sounded hysterical, I but was just yelling over the sound of the washing machine endlessly tumbling our bed linens (doesn’t the song go, “I’m not talking about the linens and I don’t want to change your life”) while the display had showed 0:08 remaining for the past 35 minutes.

Our new washing machine has a bit of a feisty streak. In order to show off his full 1200 RPMs when he’s doing his spinning thing, things have to be perfectly aligned and balanced. And in this world of chaos, this last year of the Mayan calendar, apparently finding the perfect alignment and balance of two sheets, two pillow cases and a blanket is a very difficult thing to do. So instead of tweeting, beeping or sending a smoke signal (we didn’t go with the high end model of the washer), the washer just sits there tumbling at random speeds trying to shuffle the contents of the tub around until balance perfection can be achieved.

Perhaps we need to shove all of the politicians into a Speed Queen and push a button to restore balance inside the Beltway.

I digress.

Ok, perhaps I was slightly hysterical when I loudly declared (I don’t have all the options either) that the washer was stuck on 0:08 again. But the thing is, it’s my bed time. And in order for the bed sheets to be dry at a reasonable time, the washer has to fling them around at its full 1200 RPM in order for them to dry in the dryer at a reasonable speed. You see, I refuse to sleep in the cat’s discarded cat bed again. And we don’t talk about the litter box incident in our house.

After hauling the wet clothes out of the washer, rearranging them, waving some crystals in the direction of this tower of laundry apparatus and then doing a rapid hula dance as I pushed some buttons and made some encouraging whirring noises, I begged the washer to spin at high speed so Daddy could get some sleep. Because I can speak “washer”, the door locked, unlocked, locked, unlocked and then locked again before the tub spun counter clockwise, clockwise and then ramped up to 500 RPM. This showed encouragement. The counter finally dropped itself down to 0:07 and we hit medium speed 800 RPM. If there was a clutch pedal I would have popped it into sixth because it was less than a minute later that we reached high speed goodness and the washer kicked into high. We had full 1200 RPM, baby, and to prove this the dryer that is perched on top of the washer wagged a little dance back and forth and the cat shot into his litter box, flung some litter around and then went tearing down the hallway to tell the Papa Bear.

Life is good when your sheets are clean. They’re not only good, they’re hysterically good.