La versión en español está después de la versión en inglés.
My recent tale of the bubble-filled dishwasher and my sister Dale’s lack of success using the dishwasher in our parents’ apartment reminded my of San Geraldo’s use of our clothes washer in Guilford, Connecticut. When we were first together and didn’t have a washing machine in our apartment, San Geraldo went to the laundromat, something I hated to do. I did it because I had no choice when I was at university and in my first apartment in Brooklyn. My two apartments in Boston had laundry rooms downstairs. Our first shared apartment in Boston did not.
After five years together and on our fourth move, we rented a house in New Haven, Connecticut; there was no laundry room. I told SG either we purchased a washer and dryer or he would be going to the laundromat. We moved those machines 1-1/2 years later when we bought our house in Guilford. Since I was so high falutin (a South Dakota word) that I couldn’t go to the laundromat, once we bought the machines, laundry became my job.
I don’t know why but one time, SG decided to do the laundry. A half hour later, I heard him wail “Mitchell!!!” I found him at the top of the stairs looking down to a flooded basement. The water at that point was more than an inch deep. We ran downstairs and saw water pouring out the top-loading machine. We quickly turned off the machine and then went to Home Depot to buy a Wet Vac. That made quick work of the clean-up. We phoned the plumber and he could find no reason for what happened. I started up the machine and it worked perfectly.
About a month later, for some odd reason, SG decided to do a load of laundry again. This time, he sat in the basement and watched. Sure enough, water started flowing out the top. He immediately turned it off and we phoned the plumber again. This time, the plumber found that grit and stones from our well had clogged the line and screwed with the sensors. He said the grit probably finally got washed out by the flood the first time. He cleaned and made some adjustments and we never had the problem again.
Of course, San Geraldo never again did laundry. Just like Dale, who never touched the dishwasher after her two floods. There’s a sucker born every minute.
I found the top photo in one of my father’s photo albums. Tenement laundry, probably the mid-to-late-1950s. I vaguely remember that same view from my maternal grandparents’ bathroom window when I was very, very young.
Mi reciente anécdota sobre el lavavajillas lleno de espuma y los problemas que tuvo mi hermana Dale al usar el lavavajillas en el apartamento de nuestros padres me recordó cómo San Geraldo usaba nuestra lavadora en Guilford, Connecticut. Cuando empezamos a vivir juntos y aún no teníamos lavadora en el apartamento, San Geraldo iba a la lavandería pública, algo que yo odiaba hacer. Lo hacía por obligación cuando estaba en la universidad y en mi primer apartamento en Brooklyn. En mis dos apartamentos de Boston había lavandería en la planta baja, pero en el primero que compartimos no la había.
Tras cinco años juntos y nuestra cuarta mudanza, alquilamos una casa en New Haven, Connecticut; no tenía cuarto de lavado. Le dije a SG que o comprábamos lavadora y secadora o él tendría que ir a la lavandería pública. Nos llevamos esos aparatos con nosotros año y medio después, cuando compramos nuestra casa en Guilford. Como yo me daba aires de grandeza (high falutin, una expresión típica de Dakota del Sur) y consideraba que no podía ir a la lavandería pública, una vez que tuvimos las máquinas, lavar la ropa pasó a ser tarea mía.
No sé por qué, pero una vez SG decidió lavar la ropa. Media hora más tarde, le oí gritar: «¡Mitchell!» Lo encontré en lo alto de la escalera, mirando hacia el sótano inundado; el agua ya tenía más de una pulgada de profundidad (2,5 cm). Bajamos corriendo y vimos cómo el agua se desbordaba de la lavadora de carga superior. Rápidamente apagamos la máquina y fuimos a Home Depot a comprar una aspiradora para líquidos. Gracias a ella, la limpieza fue rápida. Llamamos al fontanero, pero no encontró ninguna explicación para lo sucedido. Puse en marcha la lavadora y funcionó a la perfección.
Como un mes después, por alguna extraña razón, SG decidió poner otra lavadora. Esta vez se quedó en el sótano observando. Efectivamente, el agua empezó a desbordarse por la parte superior. De inmediato apagó la máquina y volvimos a llamar al fontanero. En esta ocasión, el fontanero descubrió que la arenilla y las piedras procedentes de nuestro pozo habían obstruido la tubería y alterado el funcionamiento de los sensores. Comentó que probablemente la arenilla había acabado saliendo arrastrada por la inundación que sufrimos la primera vez. Realizó una limpieza y algunos ajustes, y nunca volvimos a tener ese problema.
Por supuesto, San Geraldo no volvió a lavar la ropa nunca más. Igual que Dale, que jamás tocó el lavavajillas después de sus dos inundaciones. Cada minuto nace un incauto.
Encontré la foto de arriba en uno de los álbumes de mi padre. Ropa tendida en edificios de vecindad; probablemente de mediados o finales de la década de 1950. Recuerdo vagamente esa misma vista desde la ventana del baño de mis abuelos maternos cuando yo era muy, muy pequeño.
• La casa en Guilford.
• La puerta del sótano, situada bajo la terraza de la derecha. Había un desagüe frente a la puerta que se obstruía con las hojas durante las lluvias fuertes, provocando que el agua se filtrara por debajo de la puerta. Le sacamos buen partido a la aspiradora para líquidos.
Ragtime Cowboy Joe was a high falutin, rootin’, tootin’, son of a gun from Arizona.
I never think of myself as fussy, but with only a handful of exceptions, I do my own laundry, SweetBear does his, he is fussy. The last laundromat I was in, was around the corner from the Zeppelin factory in Germany.
David Godfrey:
I can’t remember the last time I was in a laundromat, except to drop things off and pick things up when traveling.
That house looks wonderful. You’d never know the drawbacks from the pictures. I admit at first I thought the sprinkler was a plumbing breakout! I think SG’s got it made in the shade about appliances and how you’re in charge of them. Boud
Boud:
Oh, it was a wonderful house. A money pit, but wonderful. There wasn’t much left to replace by the time we moved.
Four moves in 5 years? Did you even bother unpacking? Looks like a nice house. Maybe the tendency to flood the basement is why the previous owns sold it .
ellen abbott:
Those moves were the story of our lives. Not only did we unpack, we often renovated.
That’s a huge garden, as well as the house! You must have felt like Miss Ellie at Southfork… Jx
Jon:
It was a wonderful house and the gardens were a joy that took every spare minute of our time. Unlike Miss Ellie, we did it all ourselves, except for 2 weeks with a lawn service that wasn’t good enough for SG… “Fire them!” he said.
I do laundry and have ever since Carlos said he was doing it and I found he was washing one pair of pants that he wanted to wear and weren’t clean.
The rest of the laundry was still in the hamper because he didn’t need it.
Oy!
Yo this day he says, “I can do laundry,” and I reply, “Oh honey, no you can’t.”
Bob:
Except for my last trip to NYC, I’ve had to write instructions on how to use the machine. SG remembered on his own last time, but he’s always expected the washer to overflow.
Never had an escapade yet with a washer machine….but there is hope yet!!!!!! Do you ever miss having more space and a garden?
Mistress Maddie.
We’ve had big homes with big gardens, small apartments with no gardens. Whichever we have, we tend to miss the other.
You can see the wisteria!
Jssw:
Hah! No you can’t! That was after someone had weeded it!
Oh, noooooo! I would have freaked out with that flooding happening… twice!
Judy C:
I remember laughing about it the second time.
Your story of SG’s and Dale’s experiences with laundry reminded me of a sister of a friend of mine when I was young. At some point she must have gotten a shock from an electrical outlet. Their mother insisted she do the vacuuming but she made anyone else who was around plug in and then unplug the vacuum when she was done. That went for any other electrical appliance. I wonder if that quirk followed her throughout her life.
TexasTrailerParkTrash:
That’s hilarious. Did she have kids and risk their lives instead of her own?
Going to a laundromat sucks. All that schlepping of laundry back and forth. An especial pain in the ass if you don’t have a car (which I didn’t in university). Communal laundry facilities in apartment blocks suck too. Too many assholes not taking out their washing or drying when it’s done but expecting to just leave it there, hogging the machines, until Their Majesties deign to come back for it. But now, hallelujah, I have in-suite laundry and it’s the only way to go! Doing laundry now is a pleasure.
Debra:
I actually enjoyed it when I was at university because I’d get stoned before going (or probably I already was stoned with or without laundry). Being stoned and watching the clothes spin and tumble is so entertaining. But, yes, all your complaints about it still stand.
Glen will sometimes inform me that he has put some garment or garments in the washing machine. I expect that’s his cue for me to finish up the job. He will sometimes actually start the machine and SOMETIMES will even put them in the dryer when they are done. I believe he may have folded them two or three times. As to putting them away? He has no clue about where anything but his clothes go.
Rarely.
I don’t mind. I like doing laundry.
That house certainly did deserve a washing machine and dryer of its own.
Mary Moon:
Jerry regularly offers to help or do it when he sees me with the laundry. But I know he’s just being polite. Then again, I never offer to help when he (rarely) takes out the vacuum cleaner. That house was a major money pit, but it was wonderful and the grounds were a gardener’s delight. Plus surrounded by our own woods.
I’m glad the wet-vac was so useful! I’ve always had good luck with laundry machines and dishwashers, but clearly SG is cursed!
Steve:
Cursed or very clever.
Jeebus, I don’t know how anyone that had to live in tenements could get clean laundry with so much coal dust and grime everywhere! One of my jobs as a kid was to hang wet laundry on our outdoor clotheslines, take it down when dry, and iron the sheets, towels, etc. while Mom ironed the clothes. Nothing beat the smell of fresh sheets from the line in summer or watching Mom bring in Dad’s white long underwear in the winter when it was stiff as a board, LOL!
Tundra Bunny:
I can’t imagine hauling that stuff in from the line. My parents got their first dryer after The Kid Brother was born. My mother didn’t want diapers hanging in the backyard for the neighbors. Until then, bras and panties hadn’t been a problem.