My husband, the repairman.
Don't let the handsome smile fool you, people.
Yesterday I washed the quilt on our bed. I didn't balance the load correctly, and the washing machine shook around quite a bit while it was spinning.
Confession: I was in the middle of making supper and didn't go downstairs to balance it. The washing machine stopped making noise after awhile, so I assumed it finished.
After supper I went down to put the quilt in the dryer.
There was still water in the washing machine.
No problem, I thought, I'll just balance out the load, turn it to spin, and spin the rest of the water out.
I tried everything. The machine wouldn't do ANYTHING.
I stood in front of the washing machine for about 60 seconds contemplating this and the fact that I now needed to confess that I had broken the washing machine and yes we have one more unforseen bill right now that we just do not need and yes I probably could have prevented this and no I am not looking forward to another repairman coming to the house and yes I realize now that I'm totally not going to convince you that an exercise bike is a necessary cost.
"Nate? Will you come downstairs for a second?
I put the quilt in, and it was spinning, and I think it got off balance, and now I've tried everything, and I just can't get it to work, and..."
At that, my darling husband had the audacity to smile at me (politely!!), reach over, PLUG IN THE WASHING MACHINE, turn, and walk away.
(The machine must have been shaking so hard that it knocked the plug out of the outlet.)
Friends, Nathan did not say one word, but I might have told him to be quiet anyway. ;)