The Washing Machine Incident of 2009

I have a love-hate relationship with my washing machine. In reality, It looks like this:

 In my mind, however, it looks like THIS:

It is a demon spawn sent to Earth to send me over the proverbial mental edge.

Reasons:
#1: It only speaks Korea, and I constantly yell at it in English.
#2: It plays the most obnoxious music (Think of It's a Small World and multiply it times a thousand.) upon completion of stretching my clothes into shapeless masses, which then must be untangled like a strand of Christmas lights.
#3 It is LOUD. I usually try to convince myself that I live at Niagara Falls and attempt to turn the sound into a relaxing experience. Then it is thrown off center and starts buzzing at me with the volume frequency of a car alarm. It sends me from calm to crazy at ludacris speed. That's right, it sends me to PLAID!
#4 It's a stupid-head.

Last week, my washing machine went too far.

Picture it, Korea, 2009. It was a Friday night, and I had decided to stay home and do laundry and head to bed early because I had a big day the next day. That is what happens when you are almost thirty. You stay home on a Friday night and do laundry. Anyway, I had my machine filled to the brim with clothes, added detergent and fabric softener, pushed start. (I stay away from all of the other buttons. I can't read them, and they intimidate me.) The washer began to fill with water, and I crawled in bed with a new book and entered my "I live at Niagara Falls" zone. Then it happened.
BUZZ!
BUZZ!
BUZZ!
BUZZ!
BUZZ!
OK. You get the point.
My washer was FULL of soapy water and refused to do anything other than buzz at me. So I did the responsible thing, crawled back into bed, channeled my inner Scarlet O'Hara, and told myself "I will worry about it tomorrow."
The next morning, I awoke with a postitive attitude, knowing that my washer had miracuously healed itself overnight. WRONG! More buzzing. So I basically kicked, hit, and cursed the machine for about 15 minutes. Then I spent 15 more minutes appologizing. It was a very Bobby/Whitney moment.
I was at the end of my rope, so I called for backup, my partner in crime, Matt. (We are pretty much Batman and Robin meet Lucy and Ethel.) I knew he would be able to help me because I really know how to bribe him. Offer the boy some Vietnamese food, and he is pretty much burying a body for you.
As expected, he agreed. And by "agreed," I mean I had to go drag him kicking and screaming out of bed, but that's not important.
Let's go back to my apartment for a bit and picture me pulling clothes that have been soaking in water ALL NIGHT into a extra-large space saver bag. I would quickly like to mention that I in no way shape or form wrung the water out of my clothes. I was grumpy, the water was freezing, and it would have taken all day! So the sopping wet clothes into the space saver bag. I swear a foot of water floated to the top of the bag. Those bags are air tight, right? WRONG. Water spilled everywhere. I drained and much water out as I could (Thank god for the drain in my washing room floor), resealed the bag, and attempted to move it. I might as well have been dragging an elephant. It was NOT moving. So I dragged my huge Eddie Bauer suitcase, which I love, to my wash room and rolled the bag of clothes into the suitcase. You already know what's coming, right? Here comes the water!!!!!!!!!!!
I immediately grabbed blankets and shoved them into the suitcase to absorb the water, zipped the case, and headed out the door, the entire time leaving a trail of water behind me. I then proceeded to drag the 10 ton suitcase down two flights of stairs, forgetting that gravity is not my friend. I basically had to run down the stairs in fear of being run down my the killer suitcase, which I was pulling with the retractable handle, which immediately bent at a 90 degree angle and snapped off.  That's right snapped...wait for it...off!
So i just let the suitcase roll itself down the stairs and used all my might to pull it into parking lot outside my apartment.
Thirty minutes later, I FINALLY coaxed Matt out of his apartment, and we walked out to the parking lot and saw that my poor little suitcase has peed all over the place. It had literally formed a massive puddle with a five foot radius.
Manly Matt then began to drag my handle-impaired suitcase through the parking lot, but it was dragging bottom like nobody's business. I then called a cab, and we made a pact to quickly get the leaky suitcase in and out of the trunk before the cab driver could realize that he had a trunk full of water.
I won't mention the fact that once we got in the cab I could not remember how to get to the laundry mat, so the cab driver had to keep driving in circles until we found. He tried to kick out a one point, but I don't let cab drivers push me around! Plus, I made myself look really pathetic.
We eventually just get out of the cab in area that we thought was near the laundry mat and, after walking a few blocks, calling Lynn for help, and crying (Matt, not me), we finally found the laundry mat. And, let me tell you, it was BEAUTIFUL.
I entered the laundry mat and got change detergent and Bounce (I was so excited about the fact that I was about to use a dryer!!!!!). Then I looked down and realized that I was standing in a pool of water. Yep. My suitcase peed all over the laundry mat. Unfortunately, all of the washer were in use, so I had to drag my suitcase back outside. The poor owner, who was very sweet, was freaking out because she did not understand from where the water was coming. With my limited Korean and her limited English combined, I was able to explain the situation. I won't lie. It mostly like a game of charades. Luckily, she was sympathetic and did not kick us out.
Twenty minutes later, I was able to put my clothes in a washer, all the while splashing water all over myself. It was a bright and sunny day, and when I left the laundry mat I looked as if I had been in a monsoon, Did I mention all my clothes were wet, so I was wearing bright lime green pants and a purple and hot pink shirt??? Yep. I looked gorgeous as Matt and I entered a local Vietnamese restaurant. I'm surprised Matt didn't make me sit at a different table.
Anyway, three hours later, I had a dry suitcase and freshly washed and dried clothes and sheets. I had not had anything fresh out of a dryer in nine months, so, despite the hell I had been through, it was heavenly. Unfortunately, I still had to pull my suitcase home with out a handle, which full of dry clothes was not heavy, just awkward. It's a miracle I did not trip and fall in traffic, and Matt laughing at me the entire time did not help. I promise.
In closing, remember, people, be kind to your washing machines. They are very sensitive and will seek revenge at all costs.

And that's how Laura C's it!