How to Fix Your POS Washing Machine
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How to Fix Your POS Washing Machine

How to Fix Your POS Washing Machine

They don’t make washing machines like they used to. And I’m not even saying that in an 89-year-old granny sort of way. They really don’t.

Remember when you were a kid and your family — your mom and dad, perhaps, or maybe even your grandparents — had the same washing machine from the time you can remember until the day before yesterday? Washing machines used to be as dependable as each man is sure to die.

Well, that’s not a thing anymore.

Not only do washing machines no longer come with agitators (What the Christ is this?! How am I supposed to believe a little sloshing here and a bit of flopping around over there is getting my clothes as clean as they were getting when there was an appendage-severing machete beast beating the hell out of them for 30 minutes per cycle?), but they also only last for a handful of years.

And that’s just a bunch of bullshit right there.

Ours, which was one of the last ones to still have an agitator, died this week after only five years of moderate use (because let’s be honest: I’m no laundry queen). Mr. Sammich suspects it’s because I was stuffing them fuller than a three dollar hooker during a recession in a desperate attempt to make sure everybody had clean draws once every three weeks. I suspect it’s because the thing is a piece of shit, plain and simple.

The best part about it dying was the fact that Alister is going through his twelve outfits per day phase and Baby Sammich is suffering from a killer case of the upsie daisies (wherein by “upsie” I mean the barfs and by “daisies” I mean hot diarrhea). So everything was dirty. Everything.

We panicked and retreated to our respective lairs to drink about it for a while before Mr. Sammich decided to take matters into his own hands and made the thing magically start working again (But only on a medium load. That’s what she said.)

I present you with Mr. Sammich’s 10 Simple Steps for Fixing a Washing Machine Without Any Skills (In case, you know, yours is fucking useless as well. The washing machine. Not the husband.):

1) Realize it’s broken and decide to purchase a new one rather than deal with the problem.

2) Decide that new washers are too expensive after visiting three different stores and telling a slick salesman that he couldn’t sell you a bucket of water if you were engulfed in flames.

3) Get out some random tools.

4) Take apart the machine and determine you have no idea what you are looking at.

5) Look! You’re bleeding, and you have no clue how it happened.

6) Blame the machine for injuring you and break out your best arsenal of curse words. Words that would make Eminem blush (I feel the whole sailor thing needs to be updated).

7) Use any and all of your tools to bang on various parts of the machine.

8) Reassemble.

9) Voila. You have now bought yourself another 6 months to a year on the life of your washing machine.

10) Congratulate yourself for being a handyman (or handywoman).

Mission accomplished.