As some close friends know, recently I’ve experienced
difficulty focusing on my usual writing/research. I’m enduring a horrible bout of malaise, where anything will distract me from tasks I should be doing.
Sometimes this involves staring at the screen blankly when I could be doing
something else productively away from my desk. Sometimes this results in
running excess errands. And so on. I hope writing the following silly story
pushes me out of my compositional funk.
The inspiration: Sunday morning, the washing machine at my
apartment building broke down . It’s an aging beast, and it has had recurring
drainage problems during the final rinse cycle. When I opened the lid to move
my dark clothes into the dryer, a third of the washer was still filled with
water. Cue several minutes of wringing out t-shirts, underwear, and socks,
followed by two full drying cycles. Irritated, and realizing this could provide
another trigger to dodge writing, I posted the following note to friends on
Facebook:
I will not let a malfunctioning washing machine distract me from trying to break my writing/research malaise. I will not let a malfunctioning washing machine distract me from trying to break my writing/research malaise. I will not...
A friend offered the following suggestion:
Write a story about a washing machine that gets sick?
Bingo!
This won’t go down in history as literary genius, but it
accomplished its goal of lifting me out of my writing funk. The following, with
light editing, tumbled out of my head. It may or may not make any sense. End
disclaimers.
***
“Christ, constipation again?”
The repairman sighed. It was the fifth time he’d visited the
patient in the past month. For years, the glistening white washing machine had
faithfully served several generations of tenants. Its owners had dutifully
maintained the shine it had when it left the showroom floor. While all looked
well on the outside, inside age was creeping up on it. A slower gear here, a touch
of rust there.
Lately, the washer had drainage issues. Users discovered
their clothes doing backstrokes in a pool of water. Despite increasing evidence
the machine was ready for retirement, building management was determined to
extend its lifespan. But by this point, both the super and the repairman were
pleading to euthanize it.
One tenant was so annoyed by the parade of “out of service”
signs that he bought a washboard he saw in an antique store. As he washed his
underwear the old fashioned way, visions of marketing washboards to hipsters
and back-to-the-Earth types floated through his brain. Perhaps the washer’s
technical difficulties offered a golden opportunity! “Washboard Sam’s 1893
Original Washeroo!” He made a few phone calls.
Another tenant resigned herself to trips to the laundromat.
As the apartment building was one of the few in its neighbourhood, the nearest laundry
involved at least two bus transfers. The front was easy to spot, thanks to a
sign which screamed “FREE SOAP FOR AUGUST!” After loading a washer, she sat
down and pulled out of her purse the Sunday New York Times crossword puzzle she
brought to kill time. 112 across stumped her: “Album with the 1978 hit ‘Deacon
Blues.’” Nearby, a man waiting for his clothes to dry noticed her furrowed
brow. He came over and asked which clue was frustrating her. She pointed to the
across list. “Aja,” he replied. “Steely Dan. Heard that song way too many times
on the classic rock station my parents liked.” He asked if he could offer any
more help, with the disclaimer he hadn’t had time to do the puzzle this week.
Gradually, the grid filled in. His clothes remained in the dryer long after it
stopped whirring.
Back at the apartment building, the repairman sighed again.
He dissembled the washer’s drum, trying to figure out alternative ways of
fixing its drainage issues. He sensed he’d be back again before long. After
restoring it to a functional state, he called the super. They outlined points
that could sway management over to the possibility of bringing in a new washer,
ranging from pricing units to making a case that a fresh washer would seal the
deal with potential tenants. They would make their case tomorrow.
Left alone with an “OUT OF ORDER” sign taped to its lid, the
washer contemplated its future. It hoped it would either be taken to a used
appliance store to be overhauled, then bought by a family who really needed a
washer. Or it hoped to be stripped of its best parts like humans who donate
organs when they die. Anything but being taken to the dump. The dryer offered
reassurance that the washer would avoid a horrible fate. “You’ve put in good
time. You deserve a proper retirement or burial.”
Two days later, the super wheeled a dolly into the laundry
room. The washer’s faithful service to the building was over.
On its way out, the washer noticed a new model being wheeled
in. It decided to give the rookie some advice. “There are good people inside.
Don’t be temperamental. Take care of them, and they will take care of you.”
Crossword clue drawn from the August 17, 2014 edition of the New York Times. Thanks to Jennifer Radford for the story suggestion.
