And the Brother-in-Law Wants to Know What We Learned from Our Day as Washing Machine Technicians.

I did read several articles online about possibly what might be wrong with my parent's washing machine. It definitely wasn't spinning, and there wasn't enough material in the washer to trigger the shut-down. I was busy preparing cake for a funeral (Dad asks, What do I say to them? Thank You?), prepping lunch and dinner, and trying to stay on top of the CWP summer work. Cynde took my father out for banking and upon return, she did what I admire most about her. She convinced herself she was going to fix the machine and, by the way she was taking action with her AI phone expertise, I followed along. She named the model, the issues, and slowly she coached me in taking the machine apart.

I was impressed by our work, especially how we hobbled parts from several kits to get functional wrenches to twist the correct bolts. When we took the drum rotator off, I saw the glare in her eye that she wanted to call Tim Allan from Tool Time. (rah rah rah, woot woot woot). 

Yet, as we flipped the machine on its head, and she started reading about rewiring the motor, I got a little skeptical her AI advice was helping. It says we have to push the play button three times, count the lights to see if it blinks four times, and walk around the drum two times while holding your tongue to the tip of your nose."

By then, I realized we were defeated. I took the drenched clothes and hung them on the line. We went back to turning dials thinking one setting might run a complete cycle, which only resulted in the drum filling up. Not smart on our part, so I went with her to some stores so she could by more black tops to go with the others. I got cherries for the dessert and a bag of Boulder Chips, which are now my favorite chips. 

We came home, Mike got out of work, and we went at it again...this time with someone who has a clue what he is doing. Long story short, it was the belt which none of us could find until Mike rolled over the casing and it fell out. It was the belt after all. Adjustments made, parts returned, and more test runs began. Mike, tiring of us trying to help, asked, "What's the lesson we're learning today, kids?"

He liked my, "Don't listen to Cynde when she's searching for AI support from her phone." That's good. That's good. What else did you learn? "Well, I'm done coming to help out on Amalfi Drive," and, and, and, "We should always wait for Mike, because Mike knows what he's doing."

We should have waited for Mike, but I followed Cynde's lead on this one. The wet stuff is now in the dryer, as the belt was the culprit. Mom and Dad were fed, and Karal and I went for a hike. I'm pretty sure Cynde took photos of me on the floor, so she could blame me for the entire fiasco in the first place. 

I want the world to know, though, that my father has six socket sets and they were all mixed and matched. Twice, yesterday, I rearranged all the sockets: sizes, extensions, and bars, and put correct parts with correct parts. I even wiped all the materials down as I did. For now, those sets are organized and ready to go the next time something dysfunctions at the parents house. I know if I'm following Cynde, I'll likely jump in to help, even if it is all wrong. We mean well.

And Mike is the best. Always has been and always will be. Thankful for him.