That’s what this weekend has been.  Yesterday Mogs and I were preparing for our beloved Saturday routine — going out for coffee and pastries and then doing our food shopping — when the clothes washer started to leak.  In an instant, our routine was torpedoed. I worked on the washer while Mogs very graciously played by herself in the living room (in a diaper and t-shirt), and Carrie went out to do the shopping (a strange role-reversal in our family).  I almost couldn’t get the washer’s outer casing to open, and when I finally did, it was really anyone’s guess what the matter with the thing was.

I found a part in the water fill system that appeared to be pretty worn out, and it even had a small hole in it, so I thought that might be the culprit.  (As I learned, that part is called the “injector nozzle.”)

I took the injector nozzle out and wrapped plastic tape around it to plug the hole, but when I re-installed it and started a wash cycle, the leak turned into a spray.  I wish I had run a test cycle BEFORE tinkering with the nozzle, because now I can’t be sure if it was source of the original leak, or thanks to my meddling, now the source of a second leak.

From there, things got much, much worse.  I thought I’d run a quick spin cycle to get rid of the water I introduced into the tub, but I forgot that the drainage hose leading from the washer wasn’t connected to anything.  Water literally flooded the bathroom.  I was screaming obscenities, and Mogs ran for high ground in the living room, a very concerned look on her face.  She said, “I’ll just stay right here, Daddy.”

Above is what our neighborhood looked like within minutes.  Seriously folks — it took nearly every towel in the house to mop up the spilled water.  How convenient to be out of clean towels, and to have no working clothes washer!

I went out to seek a replacement part, and arrived at our local refurbished appliance shop just as they were closing.  They said they wouldn’t be able to help me until Monday.  From there I went to Home Depot, Sears, and Lowe’s, and came home with nothing but a handful of business cards with toll-free numbers to call.  Then, Carrie and I went online and in about two minutes tracked down a replacement injector nozzle on Ebay for eight dollars.  Why the $@!&? did I waste my time driving around?  A fine question…

The part will be here Tuesday or Wednesday.  It’s definitely the right part for our washer, whether or not it’s the part that will fix the leak.  I feel reasonably confident it will do the trick.  If I’m wrong, we may find ourselves occupying that weird nether region between no washing machine, another cheap refurbished machine, and a new (expensive) model that conserves water and electricity.  Which way will we go?  I’m hopeful that we will save money and make our existing machine work a while longer.  We try wherever we can to make do and mend, in order to avoid contributing to a culture of disposability.

Anyway, it was a completely miserable day, although throughout it all Mogs was a big help and a delightful companion.  Carrie and I were fairly demoralized.  We closed out the day by drinking root beer floats and watching “30 Rock” online.

Today we were determined to have a fresh start, and I think it worked out nicely.  We received yet another delivery of our seemingly endless twelve-week subscription to the Sunday New York Times, and enjoyed that over breakfast.  Then the three of us washed up, put Mogs in a pretty dress, sweater and ponytail, and took our newspaper and a couple of Richard Scarry books to The Bread Peddler.

I will not be deprived of my weekly daddy-daughter date!  Carrie called me a creature of habit, or some equally endearing appelative.

After our snack we went by the farmer’s market, hoping to find some fresh cranberries for making garlands.  Nothing there.  Hmm… we’ll have to use plain popcorn.  We swung by the tree lot a few blocks from our home, normally occupied by a taco truck, and I believe run by the same family.  We picked out a small noble fir that fit perfectly in the trunk of the car.

Mogs loved decorating the tree.  We listened to the Vince Guaraldi Charlie Brown Christmas album, drank spicy-sweet tea, and lunched on some homemade mac n’ cheese I whipped up.  I read “Babar and Father Christmas” to the baby, and she headed off to a long nap — now going on two and a half hours.  As I write this, Carrie naps on the couch beside me and the tree glimmers peacefully in the front window.

Is the universe essentially benign, or is it governed by a malevolant presence?  This weekend, I can’t tell.