Shortly after we moved into our new house here in Yakima our dryer stopped working properly. It would blow plenty of air, but wouldn’t heat up. This wasn’t big deal at all during the summer when we could just throw our clothes on a line in the backyard and let the ninety degree heat take care of the rest. So we ignored the problem (I’ve always liked the way my clothes feel and smell drying outside anyway).
Mary was less enthusiastic, especially as the temperatures started to cool this fall and I suggested hanging our clothes on a couple lines of coaxial cable that I strung up in the garage. This weekend we had plenty of rain and temps in the forties and Mary’s less than enthusiastic tolerance had turned into vague rumblings of an imminent purchase of a top of the line washer and dryer set.
So I dug out the tools and took at shot at being an electrician for a day. I bought a multimeter from the Ace Hardware down the street, gave myself a couple of heart-jolting electric shocks, and eventually found two wires tucked into a corner of the dryer that had been cut, presumably by the belt that rotates the dryer drum. It’s always nice when the problem is obvious. A return trip to Ace yielded a couple of replacement wires and disconnect clips that I ended up having to splice together. End of story: a glowing heating element again and a functioning dryer.
Congrats on the successful repair–take care of that heart though! I have a washing machine you can look at for me next time you’re in the neighborhood (works fine, just slows down with an alarmingly loud shudder between cycles). Never take for granted the patient tolerance of a less-than enthusiastic wife though, when it comes to the all-important household appliances. I remember a long cold winter on Boston Street when we first returned from Haiti–lines endlessly strung with wet jeans, underwear, and diapers in our damp Michgan basement. Very depressing.