My Friday nights these days aren’t usually very exciting. Not like when I was a teenager and LIVED for Friday night! No, at my slightly advanced age, I’m usually rather exhausted from a whole week of work. And yes, I know I don’t do a physical job like some people (yes, PG, this means YOU), but hey, brain work can be tough too, not to mention constantly dodging small, rapidly-moving bodies as I try to get from Point A to Point B at my place of work.
So I usually come home from work and veg out on Friday afternoons. Sometimes I have the energy to go to the gym (not much lately, what with my shoulder and all), sometimes I go to the pub with a few of my good friends (again, not much lately. I think we’re all in detox since Christmas!). Lots of Fridays I don’t even cook, so we eat either take-out or cereal or toast. It’s only one day of the week, so who cares?
Many Friday nights, I go grocery shopping, too. This is often a desperation move, sometime between eight and nine o’clock, when it dawns on me that it is now officially the weekend and since I refuse to set foot in a crowded grocery store during the weekend and since my cupboards are pretty bare, I HAVE to get groceries tonight or eventually starve. Or give in and hit the local Safeway during the Sunday dinner hour lull.
Last Friday, I got home from work a little earlier than normal. I felt a little more energetic than usual. Not energetic enough to go to the gym (oh no, not that!), but enough that I actually made a proper dinner. On Thursday, I had already realized that my food supply was getting quite low, so I was all organized and had a rather long grocery list ready to go. I planned to do that right after dinner.
As dinner was simmering away, I decided to do some laundry. I was on a roll! I was being efficient! Yay me! We had enough for two loads, if I added the towels. By the time we’d cleared up after eating, the first load was in the dryer and the second load was in the washer. DD came with me and we went off to get the groceries.
About forty-five minutes later, we were back home and 235$ worth of groceries had been put away. DD checked the dryer and called down to me, “It’s not dry yet. I’ll start it again!”
Not dry yet? After forty-five minutes? This required investigation.
After a few minutes of poking around (because I am, of course, SO qualified to muck with my appliances), I determined that the drum in the dryer was not rotating. There was heat, but things were not drying properly because they were not being tumbled, so the sensor wasn’t able to sense the level of dampness correctly and turn the machine off when things were fully dry.
And this is the dryer I purchased last summer. In July. Delivered in August, to be precise. I’ve only had it for not quite five months. Surely it’s still under warranty???
This morning I called the appliance store’s service department. Yes, a very nice woman called Melissa informed me, the dryer is very much still under warranty. Unfortunately, she continued, because it’s a particular European brand, they don’t actually do the service on it, but they do have an authorized company who does. Even more unfortunately, that service company is closed this weekend. All she could do was email them immediately (I heard her typing away as we spoke), and they would call me Monday morning to schedule the service call. I thanked her and hung up.
Which leaves me with laundry festooned all over my house, as my drying rack isn’t big enough to hang everything I’d washed. That will be okay, but what will not be okay is the crunchy towels I will end up with. I HATE crunchy towels!
All this because I decided to liven up my Friday night by doing laundry.