So I was minding my business catching up on the television shows that I had missed over the past week when I heard my husband swearing- loudly. Not an unusual occurrence around here, but this time I could tell that something was seriously amiss. So, I finally figured out that my husband was swearing because the door on the washing machine was locked and would not open and his uniform was inside. No bueno. No bueno at all.
So I did my fiddle with the controls thing- turned the machine off then on, waited a second and the door opened. The uniform was completely still soaking wet and the machine was still half full of water. Odd. So I decided to run it again for another cycle to see if it had been some sort of fluke. At the end of the cycle the machine got stuck again. So I fiddled with the knobs turned it off then back on, the door came open, same result. This point The Man was completely losing his temper because the only uniform he had left to wear is filthy from last week.
Me to self- "Think, Kat! Think fast. This has happened before...kinda. Yes, I shall try to empty the filter and see if that fixes the problem. Now...how to I do that?"
I grabbed the screw drivers and pried the kick plate off. Ha! See this isn't so hard. Then I tried to open the filter and when I did water started pouring out of the washing machine. CRAP! * grabbed a bowl and started collecting the water* Only, the water kept coming, so I started yelling at Tom to get me another bowl. Second bowl started to fill up to the brim. So I dumped the first bowl and slid it under the machine and caught the rest of the water that came out of the machine. Who knew there was that much water in a washing machine. Go figure! So, I emptied the filter. By the way, at this point my husband assessed that I had no idea what I was doing and had left while water was still pouring out of the machine. Oh ye of little faith. I screwed the filter back in, reattached the kick plate and then restarted the machine.
An hour later I had one freshly washed uniform, perfectly spun out and ready to go into the dryer. I think I have retained my title of reigning domestic goddess. I still might not be able to sew, but I can fix a washing machine. Take that, Martha Stewart!