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Saturday, while we were running around and preparing for the Easter Onslaught, I overheard an awful sound coming from the laundry room. I peeked in and saw nothing out of the ordinary. The noise, however, got louder and scarier the closer I got to the washing machine. I walked over to the bathroom door and knocked. The Husband was camping out inside*.
"Ummm...Either Will put a rubber stamp set in with the laundry, or there's something really wrong with the washing machine."
Big sigh. "I'll take a look at it."
Several long minutes later, the Husband emerged, shaking his head. "It's not rubber stamps. I think the belt broke."
The washing machine, long-time readers will remember, is less than two years old, and was the purchase at the end of an exhaustive investigation and discussion and time-consuming search. And despite Kathy's hatred of all things Bosch, I have to say I've been very happy with the choice. Until this weekend.
Monday morning, I called GWT, the place we bought the machine from. They put us on their repair schedule for this morning.
(At this point, let me remind you all that I have now been without a washing machine for three and a half days, and that Amy's wedding is THIS WEEKEND.)
I arrived home from work yesterday and found a message on the voicemail from GWT confirming our repair call for today at the condo address. Panicked, I called them back and left a crazed message with their customer service department, telling them again that we'd moved and that they needed to come to the new house.
7:30 this morning our phone rang. GWT, asking if they could come between 8:30 and 11 instead of this afternoon, since they were coming to the new address. Great--that gives me more time deal with the ever-expanding Mount Washmore taking over the laundry room.
9:00, the doorbell rings. I walked the repair guy up to the laundry room and explained the problem. He walked over, opened the machine, reached inside, moved the basket, and scowled. "Oh," he muttered. "Oh. OH. Oh dear."
This was not a good sign.
He played around with it a little bit more, muttering bad sounds the whole time, and then reached for his Nextel. "Uh, Joe--you there?"
A brief conversation with GWT's chief tech confirmed the mutterings. Our machine had somehow developed the Mother of All Problems. The inner basket had separated from the outer basket, and the entire "guts" of the machine is shot. Repair Guy shook his head and laughed. "I've only seen this problem once before, and it was over five years ago, when we went to Bosch school to learn to fix these things, and they purposely sabotaged a machine and said, 'you'll probably never see this happen to a machine, but just in case, this is how you fix it.' I just didn't think it really ever happened."
Our one-year "bumper-to-bumper" warrantee is gone, but we apparently still have a few months on the two-year limited warrantee. He made a few calls, and let me know that Bosch and GWT are working to figure out what's covered by the warrantee. If they won't cover the repair, it's going to cost us at LEAST $600 to have the thing fixed. That's more than half what we paid for the damn thing in the first place.
IF we choose to have it fixed, they're going to need to send someone out here to pull it out of the house and take it back to the shop.
Translation: There ain't no way in the world I'm gonna have a washing machine this week.
The Husband has volunteered to take a trip to the laundromat this evening.
I'm just shaking my head. Leave it to us to have the one washing machine in the world that develops this particular problem.
Yep. Just our luck.
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