June 22, 2017

Laundry Liquid Workout

Laundry Liquid Workout Jane French
The cap to my laundry soap just fell behind the washing machine. You know how they make caps that snap on to soap containers? Similar to a lemonade or iced tea or vodka dispenser that is meant to lay on its side and you pull off the cap to press a button so liquid pours into the cup up to a designated line. These cappy cups click securely into place after use. I sometimes miss the connection and they fall off. This time, the cap bounced off the dryer just right – flying as if on purpose behind the washing machine to make time with linty socks and whatever else is back there I don’t want to know about.

Unfortunately, I need the cap to fit back on so the soap doesn’t drip and so I can measure the next load. I suppose I could pull the washer out a bit.

But, it’s too heavy. And I’m nervous about goofing up the water connection hoses.

It’s been a while since I’ve been back there with my eyeballs. I can’t really get back there with my body because it’s a tight space with a wall in back, a dryer to the left, another wall to the right, and our laundry shelf above full of cleaning supplies.

I put my cell phone in my pocket, in case of emergency…

Resting my hands on the closed washer lid, I jump. This is where I have to be careful I don’t pull a muscle or collapse because I’ve seriously misjudged what kind of shape I’m in. Swinging my right foot back and up, I plant it against the sink behind me – using it for a launch pad. So far so good. Pushing forward, I can now lay awkwardly on the washer and peek behind by hanging my head and shoulders over the control panel on the back of our 1960’s Maytag Heavy Duty, Fabric-Matic, Extra Capacity™ machine.

There’s a fair amount of lint, a missing sock, a wash rag. It’s hard to breath while craning my neck to see around the dryer vent thing.

There’s the cap! Next to the wall!

Unfortunately, I can’t reach it without pushing my torso over the panel. A dicey move. If I push too much, I’ll fall forward and get wedged head first. Now you know why I grabbed my cell phone: “Hello, this is Jane and I’m behind my washing machine. Blood is rushing to my head. If I stop talking it’s because I’ve passed out. Please.send.help. Thank y...”

Balancing my dodgy muscle tone and dwindling endurance, I stretch everything in my right shoulder and arm and finger tips. Just a tiny bit more brings on shooting pains that dart up and down my spine and neck. But…

I’ve got it! I'm grinning.

Now how to back up and out without dropping the cap or tearing a ligament. Shimmying backward, my right foot searches for the sink that seems to have moved. Descending slowly, I plant both feet on terra firma (or tile firma). I’m a bit linty myself, but ready to pop that cap on and resume the day.

Reaching up to the laundry soap, I press the cap on to the container. It won’t click. I bring it back near my eyes to examine because I have no idea why and then press once more. It won’t stay.

It’s the wrong cap.