Washer Blues: Part the Second

Before Heather and I could figure out what was going on with the washer, her parents Phil and Linda and my sister Tanya respectively drove and flew in for our wedding. We were married and then my sister and I took off to Connecticut, where I was scheduled to deliver a keynote at a conference, and Heather and her mom and dad turned their attention to what was really important-- the washer.

They leveled the beast, and leveled it again, and leveled it again. No dice. It still shook like a rabid dog. Thinking that perhaps the floor needed bracing, they purchased a 3/4" sheet of plywood and screwed it to the floor. No dice. At the end of a fruitless day they retired to lick their wounds.

When I was back at the house I watched Linda and Phil spend another half-day trying to get the washer to work-- with no luck. I was sitting nearby trying to stay out of the action because, darn, they were so serious and I didn't want to be in the line of fire, but finally I thought, "I wonder if the idiots who delivered the appliances took out the restraining bolts?"

I ventured as much, and we immediately looked behind the washer. There were three big bolts, but they had clips on them to hold wires, so maybe they weren't the restraining bolts-- but then again, maybe they were.

Within seconds Linda and I were Goggling Samsung washer restraining bolts. Finally I found an image and yes, those were the restraining bolts. Phil removed them and we started the washer and, happily, it no longer shook.

When Heather got home from work and we told her the washer was working she was delighted, and remained so until she broke the dryer.

No-- she didn't!

Yes, she did.

Washer Blues: Part the First

Oh dear! I see I forgot to finish the sage of our new washer and dryer! How remiss of me!

So-- several thousand dollars later we had the necessary electrical and plumbing connections to finally hook up the fancy washer and dryer which stood idle for three or four months while we continued to take our clothing to the laundromat.

Seriously-- if you don't live around here, laundromats are as scarce as hens' teeth! Back in Atlanta there's one on just about every corner-- here there's maybe one in every town. And they're expensive.

But back to the long-neglected saga of our washer and dryer.

With the necessary connections in place and the washer and dryer hooked up, I put a load of dirty clothing in the washer and turned it on-- a process that was rather mystifying because of the many options and selections. I found a setting that sounded reasonable, added soap, and hoped for the best..

Things went well until the tub began to spin. Within seconds the stacked washer and dryer were bucking and heaving around the floor like a three-year-old gelding that had been hit with electric spurs. I managed to turn the machine off before the hoses were yanked out.

When Heather got home from work I gave her the bad news. Of course she had to try it herself. Surprise! The same thing happened.

We did out best to level the stack-- which wasn't easy, considering the clowns who had brought it in had broken one of the leveling feet. More bucking.

Back to the laundromat.

Noooooooo!