The F1 life is the good life

Our LG washer was the hardest worker in the house, a robotic servant that would have fled the place in tears had it not been connected by copper tubing and hoses. 

The green LED was blinking.   A display that once showed the progress of a million loads of laundry now just showed "E10".  The production line had suddenly come to a screeching halt. 

On a hopeful call to Sears, the telelphone technician asked, "Mam, are you you sure it says, 'E10'? That's not good." 

And so it was off to the garage for my tools.  After an afternoon of trial and error, I discovered a way to bypass the problem and create a Rube Goldberg work-around that included a hose and a bucket and two separate cycles.   The bucket would need to be monitored or the room would flood.  It required slightly less effort than a washboard and a creek.

Sears must have been busy fixing E10's, since it would be seven days until they could be there.  But they had the code and the problem, so we waited for the fix.

After a week of bailing water and numerous conflict-generating floods, the technician finally arrived.   He quickly diagnosed the problem, and stated (as if we already knew and he was reminding us), "You know, we don't carry these parts, they'll need to be ordered."   Evidently they were only available from supply locations in Australia or Antartica or somewhere.   A locker on the space shuttle.   But they weren't in Florida and they definitely weren't on the service truck sitting in our driveway.

I've spent my adult life keeping this production line moving.  Drains, garbage disposals, dishwashers, dryers, lights, toilets, irrigiation systems, windows, furnaces, air conditioners and even washers (if you count the jerry rigging as a fix).   Tommy has handed me tools and held the ladder and learned the basics, even down to the swearing and the trips to Home Depot. 

I am proud of the end result.  So I'll have Julie look under the sink to marvel at the plumbing joints and seals.  Run the water or flush the toilet.  Make Matthew look at the ductwork behind the dryer.  Demonstrate the light switch.  Occassionally, Julie will spread her arms over a folded pile of laundry and say, "Look everyone, isn't this folded nicely?"   And I deserve the teasing.

My sister had a similar problem with her sub-zero refrigerator.  The LED display said "F1".   It was a comical and costly problem to fix.  Since then, my sisters have a code for a complicated and expensive problem.  They call it an "F1".

Our F1's have only been mechanical.  They mark the progress of our family over the years.  They give us points in time to remember other things.   Me up on ladders or with my head under the sink or crouched behind the washer.  Trips to Home Depot with Tommy, always highlighted with "Depot Dogs" and Cokes and the extra flashlight or tool.  A side trip to buy a Batman or a Barbie. 

And we fix the F1 or the E10 and the production line starts again.  Laundry gets folded with silent appreciation.   Life moves on.  And it's a good life.