Looking out my Backdoor: Outside the box by an inch

I own a revered and older washing machine. A washing machine is possibly the most wonderful tool ever created by man for the use of women. I never did like lugging laundry down to the river to pound it on rocks and dry it slung over prickly berry bushes. I highly recommend men learn to use a washing machine also.

My washing machine is ancient. It was old when I bought it. I live in Mexico. When something breaks down, somebody will be able to fix it. That’s what we do here. That is the reason I revere my old machine. It is fixable. It is so old that it has become fixable approximately once a year. For a few pesos the machine will work another year.

I do not want a new wonderful computerized machine. They are also fixable. However, thanks to the brilliance of new-world marketing schemes, I mean plans, the fix costs more than replacing the old-new machine with another new-new machine, if you follow me.

I already experienced a breakdown and a fix this year. What frustrates me is that the controls seem to be jumbled out of order. I want to wash my laundry in cold water. The cold/cold setting gave me no satisfaction.

Actually, it gave me no water at all. Warm/warm seemed best but, my goodness, the water steams on cool mornings. Such as this very morning.

Leo makes the rounds on the rancho every morning. I’m the only person living on my ownsome so generally he comes here first. To make sure I am still alive and do I need anything from town.

My venerable washing machine had just completed steam cleaning a load, so I told him my frustrations. “Leo, please call your appliance man to come repair this machine. I know it was just repaired a couple months ago. The controls are out of whack. I’ve tried to just live with it but it doesn’t work for me.”

Unlike me, Leo gives thought to each problem presented to him. I tend to rush stomping into fix-it mode.

Leo sat comfortably while contemplating my problem.

“You want to wash only in cold water. Is that right?”

“Yes, I don’t want to use hot water on laundry. I’ve tried every setting and can’t get it to work the way I want.”

“Why don’t we shut the hot water off where it enters the machine?”

Pause for a moment of silence.

We burst into tears-rolling-down-cheeks laughter.

Leo turned off the hot water to my machine.

I felt like a right idiot.

I washed my next load of laundry in cold water, no steam rolling off my jeans. Now to go hang my clothes on the berry bushes, I mean, on the clothesline.

The sun as a dryer breaks down now and then but it self-fixes within a day or two and costs nothing to run.

——

Sondra Ashton grew up in Harlem but spent most of her adult life out of state. She returned to see the Hi-Line with a perspective of delight. After several years back in Harlem, Ashton is seeking new experiences in Etzatlan, Mexico. Once a Montanan, always. Read Ashton’s essays and other work at http://montanatumbleweed.blogspot.com/. Email [email protected].