Apparently I am destined to have a deeply troubled and mostly tenuous relationship with all the white goods in my domain. The past few days have been a frenzy of washing as I try and catch up with the mountain of laundry that has taken up residence at my abode. This time, I seem to have snaked in on beginners luck and the machine starts up without too much drama, but then keeps me up all night with it's incessant whining.
I know better now so after a hard nights partying, merely strip naked and chuck all sodden clothes in the machine and wisely wait for the dawn. Needless to say, it is not the dawn that gets me up, but a persistent need to pee well past the witching hour and in a fit of misplaced efficiency, I hit the start button (yes, I have figured out which one that now is) and rather smugly head back to bed, ready for a drift in and out of consciousness as the beast does it's best to devour my clothing and keep me more out than in. A day (yes, I do use the term rather loosely)at the beach beckons and I haul myself out of bed and bleary eyed survey the result of turquoise Thai pants and deeply crumpled chocolate top that has the unfortunate habit of slipping off shoulders and is too deep in the back to sustain a bra. The clanking emanating from the machine does make me pause and wonder what on earth has now come lose and whether or not I should be worried or look for the manual. Instead I settle for the iron and am rather pleased with the fetching outcome of my wardrobe, complete with matching footwear and ring.
The white good has subsided and given my last rather tasty experience of pulling out an armload dry but still hot towels, I'm rather looking forward to having these out in the open before I head for the beach. Hmmmm. Perhaps I ought to have waited a tad as the rush of steam accompanies the first armload. Shit! Did I accidentally change the drying setting? My momentary alarm is assauged as I realise it's the steam and the clothes just need to be laid out for a bit before they can be put away. As I head back for my second armful, I'm struck by the painful knowledge of what caused the clanking towards the end of the wash. It's a pitiful sight, to see poor Poddy II laying there like an abused child, headphones mangled with last nights top. I reach for it only to let go in a yelp as the metal scorches my fingers. This does not bode well. I disengage the headphones and gingerly (and yes, guiltily) eye the damage caused. Hello. The white good has managed to do to Poddy II what it does to fabric. Shrink it!! How is this possible?? Most of Poddy II looks respectable enough for a prospective bride's photo, but the bottom bit housing the controls has definitely shrunk! I'm befuddled and concerned. Naturally, it was only last evening on my way to undefined revelry that the battery died, so now I have no way of knowing if Poddy II is really dead or just playing hard to get.
I get the charger from upstairs and hold my breath as I plunge it into Poddy II. Nothing. Blink. Blink. Blink. The orange light is there... could it be alive? I decide to leave it there and embark on my very late luncheon adventure at the Arts and Science museum (an entirely different matter deserving of it's own post) prelude to the beach. Late evening sees us munching on fries and a good 12 minutes trying to untangle wires that now resemble over zealously cooked Maggi noodles. It's more out of curiosity than expectation that I slot it in and stick the buds into my ears, as I grapple with the shrunken Poddy II part to start her off. The sound of the Dixie Chics in my ears makes me yelp with excitement... IT LEEEEVES!!!! I'll be damned! A full wash and dry cycle and the damn thing is still playing and not just Poddy II but those friggin' useless earphones as well. I feel the urge to bow to Apple, but restrain myself as I realise the shrunken bit of plastic really should've been heat resistant like the rest of Poddy II for me to do that, as my attempt to switch it on and off meant prising one edge off which resulted in the whole thing coming loose and the switch for the on and off falling off! Hmmmm....
Determination and a finger sticking on it works and I'm rewarded with the sounds of warbling women but clearly, any ambition Poddy II might have had of being mobile is now a distant dream. I contemplate cello tape but while that may keep the body parts of the rotating drum survivor in one piece, it doesn't let me switch it on or off, and engaging with Poddy II to execute that piece of skulduggery is liable to have a situation where the button itself falls off. Catch 22. I could either then just leave it on all the time and cello tape it into place and then just recharge like it was going out of style. Or, Poddy II is now under curfew for life... decisions, decisions... I shall leave this one for another day.
Woman - 0.62743 vs. White goods - 0.72363
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