Washing Machine Repairman

I hate wasting money to replace something I could possibly repair myself. Thanks to being cheap—and YouTube—I can repair a Kia, a Nissan, an air conditioning unit, and a clothes dryer. In recent days, I have had to answer the call and become a washing machine repairman. Let me just say, taking a washing machine apart is easy; fixing it, not so much.

Certain noises shouldn’t come from washing machines. When my wife went to investigate, she discovered the agitator was not working. Cue up the dramatic music as her worry and anxiety begins to build. I, on the other hand, began to hear an array of cash registers laughing and mocking my wallet.

“Quick, honey. To the YouTube.”

After a quick search, I discovered a series of videos produced by a wonderful British gentleman. Step by step in short 2-7 minute videos, he walked me through everything I needed to do to solve my problem. A trip to the parts store, $30, and several frustrating hours later (nothing is ever as easy as you hope,) I was reassembling the washer. A twist of the dial for a test run and, voila, everything is working again.

Wrong. Moments later, the washing machine had become the source of a growing lake in our laundry room. This, boys and girls, is what happens when the washer water pump decides to die.

A sarcastically wonderful choice is before me.  I either spend another $50 to replace the pump, or I buy a new washer. Buying the pump brings no guarantee the motor is unaffected by the excess water. A new washing machine, however, means a new, matching dryer as well. So, do I continue to play repairman, or do I scrap it and go with something new?

When writing, I often find myself editing my work only to discover a hole in my plot. In trying to fix it, it is not unusual for the fix to lead to other problems. Occasionally, I am lucky enough, but usually, the problems continue to arise. Either a character is now obsolete, a scene refers to something no longer relevant, or the story itself has hit a dead end. I could spend the time and effort to rewrite several chapters until all traces of the problem are gone. Again, sometimes this works and sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes, the story I am left with has no resemblance to my original idea.

What it comes down to is this. Do I care enough about the story to put forth the time and effort to fix it, or do I scrap it and start writing something else?

(And for the record, my wife has decided on a new washer and dryer.)

Just thought I would jot this down.