A Small Receptacle (cont'd)

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Looking back, I think I should have become alarmed at the fact that there was a "safety catch" on the filter, but at the time I glazed over it as a 'translation' exaggeration. Underneath this brilliantly penned instruction was the word "NOTE" in bold letters. The note said "It is advisable to place a small receptacle under the filter as removing. This would prevent drippings."

Well, it goes without saying I want to "prevent drippings" as much as the next guy, so I rooted around for a small receptacle. I found half a soap-dish which fit nicely under the filter plug in the bottom left-hand corner of the machine.

I "caringly slid the safety catch", rotated the filter plug handle in a "counter-clockwise fashion," and tried to pull it out. It made a sucking sound, and the handle part popped off the filter part. I studied the situation and deduced that the handle could be snapped back on.

I apparently cannot recognize a warning from Heaven when I receive one.

I closed the filter tightly again, carefully repositioned the small receptacle that had gotten knocked away, and started over. This time I slowly wiggled the handle instead of just yanking.

The sucking sound began again, then turned into a giant schlurping sound as I began to battle what felt like the world's largest vacuum cleaner. Then the schlurping gave way to a loud gurgle, and the filter emerged just about a quarter of an inch.

I watched as my small receptacle floated away with the tide.

I fought the current of old dirty water gushing out of my tiny washing machine and finally managed to shove the filter back in. I began ludicrously and vainly scooping the water up with my little soap dish and tossing it into the bathtub. I felt as if I was on the Titanic, it was going down, and someone had handed me a thimble.

So I threw a towel on the floor to sop up the flow that was making a break for the door and ran into the kitchen to find a much larger receptacle. I returned with some Tupperware, cleaned up the water, and set to work.

With the aid of some cobblestones I was collecting as souvenirs, I raised the front of the washing machine up enough to fit the Tupperware underneath and began releasing limited raging torrents from the bowels of my washing machine.

I figured the water would gush out of the filter hole and into my Tupperware so I could toss it into the bathtub. But the water was not very cooperative. It preferred to spurt out at unexpected angles and get all over the floor and me. The water would sneak around the corner of the washer before I could get to it with a towel and hide under the collection of dust-bunnies we had been stockpiling in the slim space between the machine and the tub.

What water I could not get to as I shoveled desperately with the Tupperware I soaked up with all available towels and (why not) my dirty laundry. Hey, I figured that if I was going to go to all this effort just for my clothes benefit they could at least pitch in and help.

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