This weekend was a weekend of unexpected learning, exploration and discovery!
I woke up on Saturday looking forward to a work out at my gym and then an amble round the shops before a leisurely chat with Big-Words-Friend. The perfect Saturday in my book.
Instead I ended up with mopping up a flooded kitchen, dismantling a washing machine and sitting on a 15 cushions and an activated rape alarm (that even I could hear) for 15 minutes while my whole neighbourhood went cra-azy.
But let’s start at the very beginning – so Saturday morning after yet another load of washing emerged soaking wet even after the fastest spin cycle, I decided something needed to be done. So I rolled up my sleeves and began taking bits of the machine off to see if they were blocked. I also thought a good rinse through would help so put it on a hot wash.
So far, so good. Except while I was cleaning the powder tray that was thick with grime and mould in the sink, I was suddenly aware of the kind of sloshing you feel around your feet when you are paddling in the sea.
Looking down I realised the whole kitchen was rapidly flooding but I wasn’t quite sure where the water was coming from. To counteract this I used every tea towel in existence in my little flat to mop up the water and switched the washing machine to drain, which it did – all over the floor. And so I repeated the tea towel episode with bath towels.
While recovering from the ‘wax on, wax off’ exertion that drying a kitchen floor requires I thought hard about what the problem could be and decided to tackle the filter. Bravely I went where no one had clearly been before and unscrewed the little white disc at the base of the machine – but it got stuck and I couldn’t tighten it back up, so guess what? I flooded the kitchen… again.
Once I had mopped up the water for the third time I used a bit of brute force and left some skin behind as I prised the white disc out and what a sight greeted me. The filter was rammed… with some extremely suspect looking items and about 90p worth of small change. It was vile and my breakfast nearly joined the contents of the filter in the double-layered black sack I was emptying it in to.
Giving up hope of ever making it to the gym, I put the washing machine back together again and put it on for another test run and decided not to leave the house just in case flooding number 4 occurred. Instead I sorted the lounge for the arrival of New Housemate.
Cue exploration – where I found a pedometer/rape alarm that I got given free from work one day. I had never used it but The Writer has got me walking lots recently so I thought it might be useful.
Cue discovery – I can hear rape alarms!
As it was new, it had a piece of paper stopping the battery from connecting so I pulled it out eager to start counting my steps… and then, I fell over.
Seriously, this rape alarm was the loudest thing I have heard in quite some time, which is saying something. I frantically prodded all buttons but nothing worked, still it went on and on and on. Frantically scrabbling for the instructions, I located the what to do if rape alarm is activated…
Pin? What pin? There was no flipping pin. It also said it would ring for 15 minutes before the batteries ran out!
By this time I was running around the flat like a headless chicken and suddenly had the bright idea of lobbing it out of the window but on arriving at the window I was greeted by the site of the neighbours in the garden looking around wondering what the racket was.
So I stuffed it under every cushion in my living room, which is quite a few, and sat on it while I tried to think. My first idea was hope that the batteries would run out after 15 minutes, but this time came and went and it showed no sign of abating. So I stamped on it, I hit it with a rubber mallet and I tried to ignore the crowds of people all checking their car alarms and trying to locate the mystery noise.
Eventually I found a screwdriver and took the whole thing apart and only when I removed the very last battery did it stop. And then, there was silence – and I have never been so grateful to hear absolutely nothing as I was then.
And so I sat there, in shock and silence for a good half an hour, wondering if I had burnt as many calories cleaning up flood water and running around with a rape alarm as I would have done at the gym.
I decided, yes… and went and had a nap instead.
Regular readers and my followers on Twitter will know that recently I've been talking a lot about the lack of subtitled showings availab...
The other night, I tweeted the following words: "As a deaf person, it seems the one thing I'm fighting for more and more is choi...
It's the second day of Deaf Awareness Week and today I'm making it all about me. Here are the 10 dos and don'ts about my deafnes...
There's no getting away from the fact that I am a massive tennis fan... FJM really helped me fall in love with tennis because he explain...