I entered the laundry and tap danced around the bouncing washing machine, trying to hit the pause button. I didn't want to switch it off at the power point for fear of shorting out the engine. Better it smash through the wall, right? It spun around and came towards me, pinning me to the wall. I pulled out my phone and called M.
"CAN YOU HEAR ME?! The washing machine is attacking me! It's gone nuts! It just did a 360 and it's on the other side of the laundry! I CAN'T EVEN STOP IT!"
Might not sound like a big deal, but if you'd JUST spent most of your savings on a brand new Bosch Front Loader, the first washing machine you've ever actually spent YOUR OWN MONEY ON, then you'd be rather animated as well. (Our old washing machines were gifts).
The next phone call was fueled with anger, more obscenities were flying than verbs or nouns. You might think I was calling Bosch to report the kamikaze front loader. But no, I was calling M back to inform him that I'd discovered the fault. The fault was him, my stupid, lazy husband.
You see, when I managed to stop the washing machine and investigate, I discovered that the reason it was doing the nutbush was because M hadn't installed it properly. You see, here's the thing, he HATES how I second guess him, how I question him, how I nag him. So when I held up the 'Installation manual' for our new machine and asked if he'd been through it, twice, and he said yes, twice, I figured I should just take his word for it. I WAS WRONG.
He hadn't fucking read it at all, this was made obvious when the first point was to remove the plastic hose clips that WERE STILL ON THE MACHINE! The second step was to position the feet and tighten the nuts, which WEREN'T TIGHTENED! To say I was angry would be an understatement. To say I gave him a serve would be the PG way of putting it.
You want a job done properly then do it yourself, so I fetched a spanner and got to work. Then A woke up. Tools down, she had a trip to the potty (going well by the way), I got her a drink and a snack, then I went back to the work. Then the boys came in declaring that they were hungry.
"I'M TRYING TO FIX THE MACHINE! JUST EAT SOMETHING!" I screeched. J excitedly darted off to the pantry, stoked that he could choose whatever he wanted. H, being annoyingly indecisive in times of crisis, stood at the fridge staring at its contents for an eternity, before finally deciding on a yoghurt. While laying on the laundry floor, baby girl on top of me, spanner trying to release the bent foot from the washer, I notice that H has been fiddling with the 6 pack of yoghurt for a good few minutes.
"Just have something else!" I called out. My sensitive pisces fell to the floor with a "Waaaaahhhhhhh".
Before I tell you what happens next I need to make sure we're on the same page. I had big plans this day. It was my last day before heading back to work (after 2 weeks off), the last day before J started preschool and A started at family day care. I had washing to do, sheets to change, bathrooms to clean, bread to bake and children to spend quality time with. The bread was in the oven, the boys beds were half changed and their room a mess because of the interruption. And now, instead of ticking off my list, I was doing what M said he HAD DONE the previous day. So you could say I was all outta love.
H lay on the kitchen floor having a sook, I lay on the laundry floor having a sook.
"What's the problem?" I called out.
"I want the one with Woody on it!" he whined.
"Are you kidding me? Just take a goddam yoghurt and cut it out!" I stormed over, snatched the yoghurts off the floor, broke one off for him and flung the rest into the fridge. Where they hit a can of coke zero. And pierced the side. And coke zero started spraying EVERYWHERE.
"ARGH! I JUST WANT TO FIX THE FFFFFFF WASHING MACHINE!"
I stormed into the bathroom, washed the coke zero off and tried to compose myself. Then I remembered that I am an adult, responsible for 3 small children, who were no doubt wondering why the hell Mummy was throwing a tanty. I returned to the kitchen, scooping babygirl up in my arms and heading to the fridge to assess the damage. Coke zero everywhere. As I went to grab a sponge from the sink, I took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. Babygirl copied me, a deep, loud, annoyed sigh. I burst out laughing, so she burst out laughing, and I realised I was making this more unpleasant than it needed to be.
Mind you, I still sent M a text saying "Don't come home. You fucked up my day."
TWO HOURS it took me to sort that shit out so I could finish the load of washing. The entire fridge had to be cleaned out. Lessons learned:
- Always read the installation manual
- Always quiz a person who says they've read the installation manual
- Don't throw yoghurt at coke zero
- Babies are funny
Have you ever had your day ruined thanks to a single act of negligence?