Bang, bang, bang!

That's the sound that usually reverberates through the house when my mom is in the bathroom washing the clothes. The washing machine that we have is an old Toshiba which we had got brand new when we were shifting house from Saudi Arabia to India (the one pictured in the photograph isn't the one that we have though, since ours was bought in 1993, so is a much older model than this one). But back then, we were happy to have her in addition to our fully automatic other one (I forget the name of the company it belonged to), and as luck would have it, the fully automatic one got damaged in the move and we had to solely rely on the semi automatic Toshiba one. Man, all this talk about fully automatic and semi automatic makes me sound like a hit man. (I wonder if my blog is being scanned by the Homeland Security Department and if those words pop up on their scanner... hmmm, might be interesting. Hey, you spooks out there--eat my shorts!)

So, yeah--the machine. Well, she was a beaut at first. Always gave us the best she could, but then, later on, her age started to show, and slowly but surely, she started to give way. Now, we're at that point where my mother just exclaimed while she was doing today's load: Ya Allah! I feel like taking this thing to the roof and throwing her off of the terrace.

You see, the problem is that once you're done with the washing of the clothes, which is the easy part, you're then left with the drying, and that's where the trouble comes in. The spinner just won't spin, unless and until you shake it, and jolt it, and bang on it a couple of times for it to comply. And this whole process can last anywhere between a minute or two (if you're lucky) to sometimes as long as 10 minutes (or maybe even more). It's exasperating, and sends my mom up the wall, especially when she has to spend the whole day cleaning up the house, and then preparing food, and then on top of that, washing clothes--it's a bit much, isn't it.

I could do my own clothes, or the whole load if I wanted to, but I'm just such a pampered ass that way. Mother's always done the laundry, and the cooking, and the whole work around the house that I haven't had to lift a finger. Of course, I try and do something once-in-awhile. Like lately--I've been taking out the trash every day (yeah--I know--big deal; but it is for me, since I hardly used to step out of the house up until a couple of months ago, ever since I've started coming out of my depression). Then there's of course the dishes which I wash whenever I put in my own in the basin. And the filling of the jugs and the selling of the newspapers and all the leftover paper trash. And sometimes, when I'm feeling uber-confident--I even dig in and participate in chores around the house like getting someone to fix the broken window in the hall, and going on a two-hour long search for the Refrigerator repair guy whose shop is in the old part of the city (whose name no-one has even heard of, but not wanting to give up--I stick to it, and after an hour of searching and asking and hounding people--I finally find it). Only to discover that he doesn't make any trips out to my area anymore because it's too far away (you're telling me bud) but I do get the number of the people who do handle the work in our area so I just might be lucky enough to get someone to come over and have a look at our 500 litre, double door, over 20 year old antique of a Kelvinator fridge (whose spare parts I'm not even sure if they're making anymore).