Rapper Jay-Z once eloquently opined he had “99 problems but a b*tch ain’t one.” I am fortunate that my problems do not number in the nineties and most of them at this particular point in my life — or at least this week — are pretty minor, “First World” problems, as they say.
But unlike Jay-Z, one of these little probs o’mine is still indeed a b*tch. And that b*tch happens to be my washing machine.
That’s right, I hate my washing machine with a passion I have never hated any appliance that is “supposed” to make my life easier more than I hate this thing.
I am not talking behind her back. She knows this, as I scream profanities at her quite often.
And yes, yes, yes, I know what you are thinking: I should just be thankful I have a washing machine, that I don’t have to scrub my family’s clothes out in a dirty creek with rocks or a metal board or something. And I am. But even so, my fairly newish “high efficiency” washing machine is only efficient at making my blood boil.
Why do I hate her so?
Is she calling me names or bullying me? No. Does she humble-brag all the time or post passive-aggressive things on social media, which she begins with “some people” or ends with “just sayin’?” Nope. She doesn’t even have those horrendous habits.
She just doesn’t do what she is supposed to do — her one job — quickly and “efficiently,” washing clothes and various other household items made of cloth.
She is the slowest washing machine on the planet. Even on her so-called “quick wash” she definitely must be taking breaks to watch “The Young and the Restless” or having an affair with the stove. If I can ever get proof, I can assure you I will be the first to let the dryer know! I think he already suspects something anyway. We both know she is clearly ALWAYS distracted.
I honestly don’t know what she’s doing, but it ain’t quickly washing my clothes, I can tell you that! Whaaaaaaa!
And I need her to, because at least one piece of the seemingly infinite items my children are required to wear or take with them to school or summer camp or practice of some sort every, single day is always filthy dirty, and I need to wash said random piece with a quickness. And with this B, there just ain’t no such thing.
Oh how I miss my 1990s washer that loved me and trusted me to pick a cycle. I would even tell her if our next load (of fun) together would be small, medium, large or extra large and she would listen to me like I knew what I was talking about. Presumably, these “high efficiency” machines are designed to save water by “sensing” how much water you need for the amount of items you have deposited in them, because we as humans are now apparently too stupid to decide.
But I call b.s. on this sensing crap. It sounds to me like the whole tub fills up to the top with water no matter if you put 10 towels in it or one sock. It certainly takes the same amount of time no matter what you have in there.
However, I can’t really tell with 100 percent certainty, because she literally locks me out once she starts “agitating,” if you can call it that. My ’90s washer would weep if she saw what this “new and improved” 2016 version of herself calls “cleaning.” And then, even when the new one says she is done, she sits there locked forever (like you literally cannot open it), holding my laundry hostage. I imagine her sitting in there with her lid tightly closed, cutting letters out of magazines to craft a demand letter that reads: “Will release clothes for closer proximity to stove.”
He is hot (rimshot!), but it’s not happening, girlfriend!
She finally relents and releases the hostages. And two hours later I get to throw my clothes in my wonderful, sweet, devoted dryer.
I swear I am going to buy an old-school model and get this lazy skank of a washer out of my house once and for all! (I have been saying this for over a year, but it’s going to happen soon. Very soon! I swear!)
And obviously, I need to combat this First World problem quickly because by the looks of things in Mobile Bay, we are quickly becoming a “Third World” country.
Last weekend, a video began circulating on social media of a giant mass of what appeared to be feces floating in Point Clear. The resident who shot the video told media he followed the line of it which was floating in a crescent moon shape for about 30-45 minutes and never found an end to it. Ewwwwww!
There were reports there could be problems with lift stations, but the city of Fairhope issued a statement on Monday confirming none of their stations had overflowed.
Some speculate a large vessel may have dumped its, well, dumps. Ewwwwwww!
Mobile Baykeeper was on the scene on Monday trying to locate and determine what this mystery “material” was exactly and where it came from.
My 7-year-old and 10-year-old can confirm we saw poo in the water as we launched our boat from the Causeway on Sunday. Luckily, this poo had broken away from the crescent moon of crap it had been hanging around with the night before and this was more of an isolated clump of it. We did not do any testing, as we know what poo looks like and can confirm it was most certainly that.
We also can confirm we did not do any swimming as we were completely disgusted that our bay water was contaminated with human waste.
But the fish we caught and then ate later that evening really had an extra flavorful taste!
That was a joke.
But there were plenty of people lined up on the Causeway, blissfully unaware they were throwing lines into wastewater. Even if the fishies being caught hadn’t treated this discharge as their very own poo poo platter, the thought of it is just nauseating.
I hope Baykeeper and the other powers-that-be who act as the poo poo police of our local waters can get to the bottom of this soon.
I can handle the world’s slowest washing machine and about 97 other similarly mundane problems, but human feces floating in Mobile Bay just ain’t one.
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