Last week, I had to contact “Don’t Judge Me, Paul” , the home appliance repair man.
If you don’t get my regular emails (you can sign up on my website), you might not know why I call him that (it’s not like it’s written on his van or anything).
The thing is, I always make any area around my appliances look spotless if I know he’s coming to mend them.
It didn’t matter that my basket of dirty washing was in the living room that day - he wasn’t going in there!
All that mattered was the old appliance was scrubbed up, and the usually dusty alcove it sat in was swept clean of the cobwebs, clothes pegs, coins and odd socks.
Stupid, I know, because I’m sure I don’t have the messiest alcove Paul’s ever seen, but I couldn’t help myself.
However, that’s not the moral of today’s story. This is:
After a brief inspection of my trusty Bosch, Paul tutted and shook his head and said it wasn’t worth repairing.
The bearings had gone, and it would cost almost as much as a new machine to replace them with no guarantee of something equally as expensive going wrong within weeks.
He suggested I run it into the ground and get a new one. “Could go on a couple of months, yet!” he chirped as he packed up his tool kit.
“Oh, OK. Just checking - it’s not dangerous and it won’t catch fire, will it?”
“Oh, God no! It’ll just make more of a racket and then die.”
(Bernard Manning would make a mother-in-law joke at this point)
Now, if you’ve ever had bearings go on a washing machine, you’ll know it doesn’t sound pretty.
Although I called him out as soon as it started to get noisy, I knew there would come a point where Kev and I would need to dig a WW1 bunker in the garden to shelter from the din during the spin cycle.
It was a bit depressing, too. The machine was only about 3 years old but out of warranty.
Whenever I feel a bit shit about a situation, I always ask the question, “How can I make myself feel better?”
Practising gratitude is usually a good way, but I felt like that didn’t cut it that day.
What was called for was a game!
“Kev. Paul says the washing machine is on its last legs but could last another 2 months. Let’s both take a guess as to which date it’ll die on. The winner gets to choose a restaurant and the loser will pay.”
Splendid.
Kev guessed Good Friday because these things tend to happen at the most inconvenient times, and the four day Easter bank holiday would be a doozy for logistical complications.
I chose the 5th of May because it’s at the start of another bank holiday weekend, but was towards the end of Paul’s end-of-life prognosis, and I like to be optimistic.
Game On!
I put a load in, and shut as many doors between us and the Bosch as possible.
I’m sure the whole house vibrated two inches east during the final spin, but the machine was still standing at the end of it, albeit gasping and trembling after the gruelling cycle.
Come on, Boschy! If you make it to May we’re going to Raymond Blancs!
The next day, I piled in another load, feeling slightly guilty as I knew the machine struggled with the last one.
It looked at me in a “What the f*ck?” kind of way, but commenced its work.
“Sorry, mate, but Paul said…”
“Paul is a heartless bastard. Don’t look at me, woman...be off with you!”
I don’t know what happened over the next couple hours because Kev and I went out for a walk, but when we got back Boschy was dead.
I think he’d simply keeled over at the thought of having to go on for another two months without the dignity of smooth bearings, and I understood that completely.
After bowing my head in recognition of his service, I went to tell Kev that he’d won.
“Blimey, that was quick. AO let’s go!” (Kev was obviously not as emotionally attached to Boschy as me.)
Anyway, as harrowing as this story might be, the moral is there’s almost always a way to lighten mental loads in life.
Often, we’ll focus on how to keep a good attitude when confronted with big challenges, but practising on small troubles can be useful training for lifting heavier weights.