The Washer Saga

A washing machine is such a boring subject until you break one which I managed to do yesterday. It caused an avalanche of problems. I, being the nice person I am, do not do laundry on weekends as our machine is shared with two other families headed by single, working moms. Monday was very busy so Tuesday was the day.

Avenue de Bellevue 1, front view,  our apt ground floor

This simple task takes on a new dimension in Lausanne. In our basement behind the washer there is a magnetic key pad with each person having her own magnetic key. The key goes into one of two slots in the wall reader. You have to keep the key in for several, read many, seconds until it reads your number and determines whether there is enough money in your prepaid account. When the money available is verified, you have about five seconds to choose a program. We still don't know how it adds money or who is paying.

I was told that the regular program was the one to use. Unfortunately, this takes an hour and forty two minutes which is a ridulous amount of time in my opinion . Yesterday I decided to try another program. It said fin (fine washables) so I hoped it would be shorter. It was only 54 minutes, but what I did not notice was the 6" square piece of the front panel at the bottom left of the machine that seemed to be hanging open with a wide plastic pipe coming out of it.

Having never noticed this before I ignored it as any non mechanically inclined person would. I put the powder in, shut the door and pressed start and water came gushing out of the afore mentioned pipe. I tried to stop the machine but it was impossible (french accent here). I ran upstairs and got Steve. We spent 10 or 15 minutes trying to figure out what was going on. With no luck, we tried to open the washer and remove our towels but non, non ! The door would not open. 

We returned to our apt and tried the neighbors. No one was home. We emailed the neighbors and Annabel(from upstairs) told us she would look at the situation soon but she was having company that evening and we would have to wait. We kissed our new towels goodbye and waited. She gave us the landlady's name and phone number.
 

Avenue de Bellevue 1,  back view
Our apt lowest decks the width of building
with basement window below

After much discussion we decided it wouldn't be right to leave the building without a  washer so we called the landlady. She spoke mostly French. We  back and forthed for a while. She kept asking who I was and where was Rebecca who is the official renter of the apartment. By then I knew I made a mistake to call the Madame. She said she would call a repair man. Steve emailed Rebecca in Copenhagen and she went ballistic that we called the landlady who isn't supposed to know she is subletting.

Today we were still waiting when we managed to ambush our other neighbor who told us all was fixed! Sacre bleu! Why didn't anyone tell us. We ran downstairs to find the towels all washed. And yes, I did not break the washer after all. 

To end this much too long story, it turns out there is a reason the washer is in the basement on a concrete floor next to a drain. This hidden pipe must be released and drained after every two loads, so the excess water can drain out of the washer. When you see the little metal flap open, you must close it before starting the machine. Who keeps track of the last time the drainwas emptied?

That is the way it is always done here so no one thought to tell us about this feature.  To all of you out there, bless your American washer and while you are at it your dryer as well. Hanging clothes is only romantic in movies. Hopefully, we will not be evicted and Rebecca will not have her lease terminated.