Krud (krud42) wrote,

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Our Washer's Not Coin Operated, Apparently

I don't know how my wife (who I anonymously refer to as "Krudita") puts up with me. She selflessly deals with my dirty laundry on a weekly basis, and sometimes gets more than she bargained for. For instances, sometimes I've accidentally left a Kleenex™ in a pocket, and after the washing machine is through with it, nearly every article of clothing is speckled with nasty tissue bits. (Which I then help pick off.)

She frequently reminds me to empty out my pockets, and though I usually do, sometimes I just forget. (It's only a testament to its durable design that my small thumbdrive made it through the wash and can still function properly.)

And then there are the coins. Coins are the bane of the washing machine. The washing machine is like a roach motel for coinage: they check in, but they don't check out. At least not without a great deal of finnagling and struggling and pleading. And that's just the part where Krudita's asking me to do it myself. (I'm kidding.)

(Incidentally, the way we know it's always my fault, and not Krudita's, is that I'm the only one who puts things in pants pockets. There seems to be some rule or law that says women's pants pockets are to be as non-functional as possible. If I'm incapable of putting my fingers in my pockets, that's how I know when I'm accidentally wearing her pants. [Which is perhaps more than you needed to know, or TMI, as they say in pro-acronym circles.])

So the other day Krudita calls me into the laundry area and says, "You need to get the coins out of the washer, 'cause I can't reach them." I of course agree, and before long I have my head in the washing machine. (Which is tricky to do, because it's one of those combo deals where the dryer is right above the washer, only eight inches in fact, so the washer lid barely opens to begin with. It takes some doing to get a human head through there. But I somehow managed.)

I could shake the agitator and here the coin jingling underneath the mechanism somewhere, but my fingers couldn't reach under to grab it. The best I could manage was to push it slightly further away with my fingertips. I wanted to tilt the thing sideways and shake it until the money fell out, but that would probably violate our rental policy somehow. (Or maybe void whatever warranty was on the washer.)

Eventually I hit on the idea of using some sort of "tool" to get under there, so I switched into MacGuyver mode and started looking around for Useful Everyday Items Around The Home. I found a pants hanger, but it was too bulky and thick, so that didn't work. And none of the screwdrivers had a narrow enough handle to allow the flat bit to slip under. (Pardon the highly technical terms.)

Finally I decided to try bending a paperclip and using that. At first it didn't seem to be working, but then I felt the clip bump against the coin, so I tried pulling the coin out. Which, I managed to do slightly, but in the process, I dropped the paperclip.

Which immediately took the coin's place under the agitator's base. (D'oh!)

As I went back to Krudita's desk to get another paper clip (to fish out the first one), Krudita asked from the other room, "Did you get the coin out?"

"Um, yeah," I said, not telling her yet about the paperclip.

"Thank you," she said, and continued knitting. (Or reading. Or whatever she was doing while I was wondering whether I'd sabotaged the washer.)

So I bent the second paperclip, not sure what the proper method would be in order to snag another clip. And once more into the breach I went. It took a bit longer than the coin had, but eventually I felt something catch. Hoping it was the paper clip and not, for instance, the vital inner workings of the washing machine, I tugged as best I could. Tadah! The other paper clip was now just visible enough for me to reach in there and wiggle it out to safety.

After having relieved the washer of all foreign shiny metal, I told Krudita what happened. For my trouble, she let me keep the dime. (At least we know it's not dirty money.)

Thus ends what is perhaps the most boring tale ever told about money laundering...
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