Anyone who knows me can tell you I’m not the most mechanically inclined person. If my family would please stop laughing, we can continue.

My washing machine has been leaking for a while now. It’s been getting worse as time goes by. Now so much time has gone by that it’s starting to erode a river channel in the concrete floor of my laundry room. A small but thriving ecosystem has grown up around the drain in the floor. Despite the potential environment disaster, I decided it might be a good time to think about considering the possibility of looking at it.

Yeah, sometimes I too am amazed at how committed I get to these little projects.

So I tipped it back and looked to see where it was leaking. Then I found the model number (cleverly hidden on a sticker right on the front of the machine), and went to ask Google about it. According to an overwhelming percentage of answers, it is a pump. The same piece coincidentally that had water running out of it when I tipped the machine up to check.

More Googling gave me a manufacturers part number. Another search gave the phone number of the local appliance repair place where I had bought a part for my dryer a couple of months ago. A quick call confirmed that they had a pump in stock and available for immediate pick up. The manufacturer had just bumped the price up to eighty-five dollars, but they could let me have it for the old price of seventy.

Darn. Now I don’t have any excuse to delay this project. I’ll have to find something else to put off.

After picking up the new pump, I prepared an awesome stir-fry for supper for Lynn and I. Most yummy grilled, cubed chicken thighs. ;^D

After supper, I removed the old pump, put on the new one. Slightly bent a clip putting the body back on and bolted everything back together.

It is currently slaving away while I type this. The former wetlands are drying out and some very vexed wildlife is looking to relocate. Not bad for someone who’s mechanical skills usually involve looking up the repair guy’s number for Lynn to call.

So yeah, I think I’m entitled to a little celebration.

Cheers, Winston