Mom vs. the Washing Machine
Back in October when I visited my mom, her friend was gracious enough to let me and my boyfriend stay at her condo in Rochester Hills. The place was nice–two bedrooms, one and a half bathrooms, a nice kitchen and living room. There was also a washer and dryer that Jason and I were eager to use because we were going to be away from Seattle for a few weeks and would obviously need to wash our clothes at some point.
During the middle of our stay we decided to fire up the washing machine to clean some of our sweaty exercise apparel. Jas loaded up the machine, added some soap, adjusted the settings, and closed the hall closet doors to muffle the sound of the machine in action. He then returned to his laptop to get a little bit of work done. I was also glued to my laptop while my mom puttered around in the kitchen getting things ready for dinner.
Mom: “Wahhhhhhh! My gahhhh!! Oh my gahhhhh!!!”
Jas and I ran out of the bedroom to see what the hell my little Korean mom was hollering about and quickly determined the culprit: soap was leaking out from under the hall closet door. It was clearly coming from the washing machine, so we all scrambled to grab some towels and mop up the mess.
Mom: “Wha happen? You break washing machine?”
Jason: “No, I didn’t do anything wrong! I don’t know what’s wrong with it. Maybe it’s leaking.”
Mom: “Door leaking?”
Jason: “Yeah, it could be the door. I’m not sure.” The washing machine was a front loader, so a leak could be possible.
Mom narrowed her eyes, suspicious.
Mom: “How much soap you use?”
Jason: “A normal amount.”
Mom: “You sure?” She Larry Davided him.
Jason: “Yes, I just did one scoop. I didn’t use too much soap.”
Mom: “You pick ‘small wash’?”
Jason, sighing: “I picked a regular load and used a regular amount of soap.”
Mom: “Okay…I think too much soap.” She retrieved her cell phone from her purse and called her friend, the owner of the condo.
Mom: “[unintelligible Korean]…washing machine…[unintelligible Korean]…load size…[unintelligible Korean]…soap…”
Jason, to me: “I don’t know what she’s saying, but I get the impression she’s blaming me for the leaking washing machine.”
Me: “Welcome to my entire childhood.” I can’t tell you how many conversations I overheard between my mom and one of her Korean friends that consisted of “Blah blah blah…Re-bec-CAAAA [glares in my direction as if to say "Yeah, you know I'm talking shit about you but you don't understand Korean so suck it"] …blah blah blah blah…”
It turns out that there was too much soap in the washing machine…sort of. Even though Jas used a standard amount, the washing machine was an eco-friendly, low energy model that used less water and required far less soap than typical (about 1/4 less). Mom’s friend solved the mystery for us. Technically it wasn’t Jason’s fault, although I’m not convinced Mom doesn’t feel that way.
We re-ran the load and used substantially less soap for future loads. Mom, meanwhile, spent the rest of the afternoon like this:
Yes, she actually babysat our clothes and kept a watchful eye on the washing machine to make sure it wouldn’t regurgitate more soap, all while blaming my boyfriend for mismeasuring the Tide.