So. Our washer, a 32 year old almond colored Maytag, is dead. The parts aren't even made anymore. The repair guy can't work any more miracles. Doesn't even need it for parts, because all of its generation are dead or dying. Were it a car, it'd probably have somewhere around a million miles on it. Or more. As 'tis, the last time being overloaded was the last time.
Time to get a new washer.
We already know what we're going to get to replace it. It's got a feature I can't resist, despite it being a hundred, hundred fifty more than my second choice: a cycle for extra heavily soiled clothes (read: small boy playing outside).
In the meantime, we'll either be taking all of the clothes to a laundromat to get them all done at once (three baskets full--it might be the best option) or borrowing a friend or family member's machine.
This happened last week. Thursday or so. I noticed it on Friday, and called the repair guy on Saturday. He promised he'd call and come by yesterday.
And so, Sunday, I cleaned half my house. The living room and the kitchen--the biggest mess in the house, due to small children helping make the mess. It took almost all day, and I managed to do most of the work. With zero energy. I just...kept moving.
I paid for it yesterday. My feet still hurt.
And today, I get to start on the bedrooms. Once I get the cat butt off my arm and can get up, at least. Most of that will be done (today, at least) sitting on the floor.
26 minutes ago