I shake it angrily, before giving it a bash.

This is not good news. Unfortunately, when I ordered the thing, I plumped for the cheapest one on the Internet, figuring that I wouldn’t really use it much. This was a bit like Dylan Thomas wandering into his local pub and ordering ‘just a half’. I am lost without it. I mourn by whimpering slightly and rocking from side to side, wondering what I am going to do. This is the worst possible scenario in my life.

The washing machine breaks.

I stare at it for a long period of time. I have a huge mountain of washing to do before the LTLP returns home, in the time that I would have spent on my laptop. This could be serious. I worry that it is somehow my fault, for not using the manufacturer’s recommended detergent.

I perform some diagnostics, by plugging it in to a different socket. It remains broken. It strikes me that this is going to cause some inconvenience, as I return my mountain of washing to the basket. I call the Washing Machine Repair Man.

The Toddler shuffles in. “I’ve done a wee in my trousers,” she confesses, shamefacedly. I shout at her a bit.

I contract the ‘flu.

My temperature shoots up before plummeting; my body aches – especially, I note with interest, my fingers. I might have some rare form of influenza of the fingers. The LTLP is sympathetic yet sceptical about this. My fingers feel as though they are going to drop off, which concerns me. I would look it up on the internet, but my laptop is broken. Meanwhile, I sweat buckets, generating laundry. I ring the Washing Machine Repair Man again. I am at my lowest ebb, and things cannot possibly get any worse.

The ‘flu is joined by diarrhoea.

Someone is out to get me. Someone, somewhere, has it in for me and has smitten me down with unfortunateness. I receive a further apologetic phone call from the Washing Machine Repair Man, who is now the man who I am most in need of in the world. I would look up other Washing Machine Repair Men on the Internet, but my laptop is broken. I curse my stupidity in leaving four pairs of perfectly good pants in Canada. The Toddler looks very smug. I shout at her a bit.

20 thoughts on “The laptop breaks.

  1. Penelope says:

    I am also struck down with gastric flu, although my fingers seem to be fine…hmmm…
    Anyway my laptop won’t talk to my wifi-thingy but my washing machine is about the only thing in the house that is NOT broken.
    Life is a bit rubbish sometimes huh?

  2. Rich B says:

    Back in my day they had something called the Yellow Pages which was one of those… whaddyacallem, book things.

    Check in old cupboards or in ‘the side’ in the hallway. That’s where they usually end up.

  3. Richard says:

    I have neither a washing machine nor a functioning laptop. I don’t even have the internets at the moment. I feel I have saved myself from those things currently burdening you while probably leaving myself open to a devastating attack of something contagious from using public computers.

  4. Pat says:

    I can only hope and pray you have the D without the V.
    Now you do wash your hands don’t you? I only ask because some people are lax about this and it is VITAL, especially with children.
    Re the fingers – are you taking any drugs?

  5. Oh happy day! The merciless wheels of the karmic juggernaut have finally turned and are grinding you in the dust for a bit. And now that all your banker friends in your Village of the Damned have lost their jobs, maybe house prices will fall too? Best of all, no laptop means no interminable posts about how bourgeois you are that day. Excellent!

    Mind you, you got a post out today, so I’m guessing you hobbled across the road to Short Tony’s or Big Gay Al’s or wherever to use theirs. Hope they put some newspaper down, given your condition. I dare say the whole village can track your search for connectivity from the spoor you’re laying down incontinently behind you. Best. Post. Ever…

  6. spazmo says:

    Funny enough, I had the squirts today, too.

    But I was driving on a remote highway, so my options were alarmingly limited. Willpower prevailed, though. Occasionally, one finds himself bargaining with his bowels. Luckily, I got some solid results.

    Wish I could help you on the laptop/washer/toddler/finger front…

  7. carnalis says:

    don’t get cross with the toddler; you might need to borrow a pampers.

  8. tillylil says:

    No launderette in your small village then Jonny?
    You’ll have to become an eco warrier and take your washing to the village pond.
    And buy more pants – you can always give the surplus away on your next holiday.

  9. JonnyB says:

    Somebody said it was fourteen quid to wash pants in King’s Lynn? (including drying). Fourteen quid?!? Can anybody confirm this?!?

    I have never been to a laundrette as I am afraid of working class people.

  10. Damian says:

    I went to our local laundrette. It was early in the morning on a weekday. I put my things in the washing machine, nodded to the man in a cap who was drinking a beer, and sat down with my book to read.

    Then I noticed that there was only one washing machine going – mine.

    It is not working class people you need to worry about – they are working, and thus have their own whitegoods. It is the homeless that you have to fear.

  11. zed says:

    Next time toddler confides that she has done a wee, you can do one better by replying “and I’ve done a poo”. That’s what kids are for – such fun.

  12. guyana gyal says:

    You mean you haven’t trained the toddler to do the laundry as yet? Oh man, parents these days, I tell you.

  13. Brennig says:

    I’m a bit worried that in your current state of ill-health you may have been attempting to use the washing machine to connect to the internet whilst The Toddler may have been using the laptop for toilet training purposes. Can you just confirm that things aren’t as I’m imagining?

  14. Z says:

    Have you checked the filter? When that blocks, the washing machine doesn’t work and it’s quite embarrassing to have called out the Washing Machine Repair Man.

    If that’s not it, while you’re washing your hands after bouts of squittiness, you could do some hand-washing. Or put the washing in the bath with detergent and warm water and get the Toddler to tread it like grapes. No one will notice if she wees on the sheets a bit.

    Can’t help much with the laptop. Have you tried turning it off and turning it on again?

  15. Fanto says:

    I was attacked by a cat in a laundrette once. Put me off for life …

  16. SophieW says:

    Was the cat not happy with his wash?

  17. AndyB says:

    What, cats or launderettes?

  18. Barb says:

    “…and has smitten me down with unfortunateness.” I think that line will get a lot of use round our house this winter, since we’re both unemployed and other unfortunate things.

    Hope repairs/recovery are underway!

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