The Blues

There has been a lot of difficult stuff going on that is too private to blog about. I decided to do something positive to try to change just a tiny thing to make things better. Something small, relaxing and empowering in the home, the way the TV shows tell you. 

I had an old pale blue bedspread that has always been better than any replacement I might find. It's seen better days but it's big and useful, and refreshing it by re-dyeing it was going to do the trick. I went to the hardware shop and bought two large tubs of royal blue wash'n'dye, crammed the bedspread into the washing machine with them, and sat back waiting for magic to happen. I would start the evening with pale blue worn out bedding, and end it with a vibrant new look! What could possibly go wrong?

After a long time, I peeked into the big dark glass eye of the machine and the bedspread still seemed to be the same colour. There was an odd smell, too, and I realised that the machine was on a 'dry' cycle. Opening the door, I saw a dry, undyed bedspread and a host of baked grains of dye that had clumped together in a hideous mess. The machine had rebelled in the only way it knew how.

The only thing to do was to set it off again and try to reactivate the dye (I thought).

Three hours later, the machine beeped a mournful alarm sound into the kitchen and flashed it's little lights in pain. 

I opened the door and there lay a sodden, streaked bedspread in a soupy mess of blue water. I hauled it out into the sink, flooding the kitchen floor in the process, and tried to run a 'spin' cycle to drain the blue soup from the drum of the machine. It was't going anywhere. 

'Beep! Beep!' it alarmed.

After a rest to recover, I managed to wrestle the bedspread into the back yard, where is is perched threateningly on a  bin bag. Reluctantly, I phoned the washing machine repair family.

It was their answering machine. 'I am sorry, we have been exposed to Covid this week, and will not be able to do any work until further notice'.

AAAAARGH!!!!!!!!