One of the BEST things about moving into this house (after living in a Boston apartment) was having a laundry room. Living in Boston on a grad school budget with a baby, I was THRILLED to have laundry "facilities" in our building. I use the term "facilities" loosely here because our laundry situation was in a basement resembling Kevin McAllister's, with almost no lighting, WHO KNOWS WHAT living down there, and was comprised of one washer and two dryers. Coin-operated, obviously. But. I didn't have to haul our stuff to a laundromat.
Bill and Barbara got a new washer and dryer a little while before we were going to be moving to North Carolina, and they so generously saved their older ones for us. As the story goes, Bill bought this set when he was in medical school. They raised three kids on this set. These machines have washed a lot of laundry.
We, too, have put them through their paces over the past seven years. We cloth diaper. Brad runs and generates a lot of running laundry. WE HAVE A LOT OF KIDS.
We've had a few situations where Brad has needed to dismantle the washing machine, watch a YouTube tutorial on how to fix something, fix it, and put it back together. I can think of two times he's done this prior to 2021.
Well.
This year, we reached the end of our very good run.
I won't give you a play-by-play of all the problems that arose, but the gist of it is that the motor itself (not a smaller part that could be replaced) was dying. There was no more resuscitating it. We had to face the music...and bid a fond farewell.
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