Mommy Meltdown

I don't think I cried when our van broke down this past summer and we were without her for a month. (Well, maybe I did, but that's a distant memory). However, I did cry this past weekend when our washing machine broke. (Could I be pregnant?)

We wash three to four loads of laundry a day around here, so when the washer decided she was done being my domestic servant, I had a meltdown. I tried to coax her into taking her old job back. At seven years old and a bijillion loads of laundry rendered, I figured her brain was just getting a bit tired. I reset her computer several times in the hopes that I'd jog her memory as to how not just to start, but to actually finish a load of laundry, but to no avail. She would stop mid-cycle and refuse to go on. "Please, I beg you. You must go on!" Nope. Not gonna do it.
Matt and my dad took her apart on Sunday afternoon. Matt replaced her motherboard (we had an extra in the basement) on Monday morning. A new brain would certainly help (I know it would most certainly help me). Nope. Didn't help. Alright. Time to call in the big guns--the dreaded appliance service guy. You know, the guy who charges $45 just show up at your front door. So $100 later he found the broken part. He ordered the part--a pressure switch--and it arrived today. Matt replaced it after he got home from work.

My domestic servant is back, though she's a little quirky with her new brain and all. I'll just have to get used to that because these days, good help is hard to find. At least we'll all have clean underwear now.