$3.99

My dad was a mechanic and a fix-it-up (or at least try to) kind of guy.  I have irrefutable proof that this trait is not inheritable.  I not only don't work on my car, I don't even wash it.  And I lease.  I don't cut my own  grass.  And when something breaks, I buy a new one . . . 'cause it usually costs as much, almost as much, or more to have somebody repair it . . . and since I cannot distinguish between shit and shinola, I have no way of knowing if a repairman is being straight with me or is screwing me big time.  I just recently had a reminder of that when I took my 30+ year old stereo amplifier to see if it could be fixed, and was told it would cost $120.  I abstained, got a new one from Amazon for less than the fix-it price, and found that when they'd been fiddling around with the old amplifier, one of the channels started working again.  

However.

When my washing machine started stopping when it got to the end of the rinse cycle, I knew two things:  I did not want to pay someone to come to my house and fix it, and I did not want to buy a new one since I am now living in seriously reduced circumstances.  So I tried to trick it, going to other cycles and clicking on, 'round and 'round and 'round.  It worked.  Sometimes I would just re-start the wash cycle from the beginning and that wold work.  And then all of that stopped working.  So I did what any 21st century man would do:  I went on the internet.  I Googled something like, "washing machine will not go to spin cycle."  Much to my surprise, I found a video that told me that it was probably the lid switch assembly.  I went back to my filled-up-with-water-and-clothes washer, opened it, found the little hole where the lid switch was, and stuck a metal rod in it.  The washer started spinning.  Voila.  The next time I did the wash and it stopped I repeated the process, but this time was rewarded by a tiny explosion and a flash.  And that was the end of that.

So I went back to the fix-it video and watched it through, and I thought, "I can do that."  And I took my washing machine apart.

It took me forfuckingever, and I had to keep looking and re-looking at the video . . . and there were some things that I just had to figure out . . .  but I got that motherfucker apart.  I found the look of it quite disturbing . . . like it'd just been circumcised and was still feeling the pain.

And then I found that sonofabitching lid switch assembly and got it out of there, feeling manly and triumphant.

I spent a little time doing a tribal chant 'n' dance, then got Joe and drove up to Lowe's, trophy in hand, and headed for the plumbing aisle.  Before I made it to the aisle, a nice young fellow asked if he could help me, and so at ease was I within my manly skin that I boisterously said, "Yes!  I need one of THESE," and I shook my lid switch assembly at him.  "What is that?" he asked, and I balked for a moment before coming up with a reasonably close approximation of "lid switch wire assembly"--thought I'm pretty sure that the word "thingie" crept in there somewhere.  The guy knew what it was right away, though, and told me, much to my dismay, that they didn't carry those kinds of parts.  He told me that there was a Sears store in the South End that might carry it . . . or I could order if from Sears online.  

Well let me tell you, I was stunned.  I thought that you could build the entire world and all there is that's in it with the shit you can buy at Lowes.  The truth had not set me free, it had made me sad    . . . so sad.  (But isn't that what the truth usually does?  The only thing the truth sets you free from is happiness.)   I mumbily thanked the young fellow for his help and went over to look at the washing machines, all fervor for fix-it-up having died within me.

The prices ranged from about $600 (for a metal box with an industrious midget inside) to well over $1,000, which is a sizeable percentage of my worldly wealth.  So Joe & I went home.  And that's when the thought occurred to me:  Amazon really does sell all the shit you need to build the world & etc.  I looked over the part I had wrested from the body of my washing machine and found a number.  I went to Amazon and typed that number, and this is what I found:

I compared what I held in my hand and what I saw on the page.  I zoomed and compared some more.  I hemmed.  I hawed.  And then I said to my self, "It's $3.99, for Christ's sake," and I put the thing in my cart and punched the proper sequence of buy buttons.

The part arrived Saturday afternoon.  I opened it.  I showed it to my girlfriend.  And then I watched some basketball.

But this morning I girded my loins and went into the basement, cued up the video again, and went to it.  It wasn't easy.  It took me a looooong time to get the lid switch screwed into place.  My back was really aching.  It took me a loooooong time to do every step, and I had to keep backing the video up, watch, back up, watch.  (Thank God for the wo/man who invented that little 10 second back up thingie on the videos.  Without it, fix-it-videos & porn wouldn't be nearly as useful.) 

And . . . ?

I just came up from the basement after putting my freshly washed clothes into the dryer.

And now only one question remains:  Whose your daddy?