Have you ever wondered what it would be like to star in a horror film where a marching band (well that's not sounding very scary)...a marching band of killer zombies comes slamming through your back door at 10:30 at night while you are home alone with your children?
OK, so maybe zombie killers is a tad much but bear with me.
I had tucked the boys safely in their beds last night and was working in my office when the LOUDEST, CLANGIEST, DRUM-BEATING, WINDOW-RATTLING sound started pouring out of the laundry room. This was not your ordinary, run-of-the-mill-the-washer-is-off-balance-because-of-a-heavy-blanket sound. Noooooo. This was "the house is falling down around us" banging. I jumped up from my chair just as the boys came screaming and crying down the hall with their hands over their ears. Just then, the sound stopped.
I slowly crept down the hall lacking only a shaky video camera to document the terror. I turned the corner to find our front-loading washer sitting squarely in the middle of the laundry room, hose stretched as far as it could without snapping off, door hanging wide open, storage drawer popped out and dead as a doornail. I tried to close the door and it was broken. I surveyed my now lifeless (brand new) washer for signs of foul but even my best NCIS investigative skills turned up nothing. What would cause my nearly-new washing machine to go mad? I had been working it a lot harder than normal this week. Was this some sort of freakish Appliance Protest?
With no clue or solution at hand, I left it as I found it and returned the boys to their beds assuring them that the "monster washer" was not out to get them (although not fully convinced myself).
Hopefully a repairman can come and check on it today so my laundry doesn't pile up again. Until then, be looking for us on the latest episode of "When Appliances Go Mad."
My life. Lawd.