Man vs. Machine

I knew it would only be a matter of time before one of the inanimate objects in my home came to life and decided to destroy me. And sadly, it was one of my favorite machines that chose to rise up and rebel. The dear, sweet, only-cost-$60 dryer has had it out for me for some time now, I believe, but only yesterday did it stage a full-on attack of epic proportions. (I am convinced that we will discover the centipedes are ultimately behind this, but as of right now, no concrete evidence exists to prove my theory.)

Last night, I decided to do a little laundry as Megan and I watched our favorite Tuesday night show, Beauty and the Geek. I didn't actually have a ton of clothes to wash, so I threw my towels in there to top off the second load. As I transferred everything into the dryer, I noticed that the corner of one of my guest towels (read: ineffective product purchased for $2 at Target a few years ago) was beginning to fray a little. I wasn't worried...after all, the only time it ever made it out of the linen chest was when out-of-towners came to visit. And it was from Target. And cost a whopping $2. So I thought no more of the frayed edge. The timer on the dryer unfortunately only lasts 30 minutes, so we usually have to run it twice in order for everything to be thoroughly dried. Especially towels, which (unsurprisingly) have the tendency to wick the moisture from every other article of clothing in the load, absorb it into the towel's own pores, and take for-eeeev-er to finally dry. Last night, I timed our viewing of Beauty and the Geek so that when it was over, it would be just about time to go set the dryer for another 30 minutes. As I headed down the stairs to the basement, my nostrils prickled at the strange smell that met me halfway down. It was like burning hair meets burning rubber. I couldn't see any smoke and the fire alarm hadn't gone off, but nevertheless I flew down the remaining steps and quickly turned off the machine. The machine felt VERY hot to my touch, and SWEET JESUS when I opened the door, the cloud of noxious, seething steam that puffed out was enough to make me turn and clutch my throat and gasp for fresh oxygen.

When the air had cleared and I was able to breathe again, I looked inside the dryer. The vent was still red-hot. Carefully avoiding it, I reached in (after also determining that there was indeed no actual FIRE) and tried to pull out my clothes. That was when I discovered that that cheap-ass towel from Target had somehow gotten stuck to something near the vent and been ripped the heck up. I managed to wrestle it from the dryer's deadly grasp, and I immediately realized that it was not really a towel anymore...it was just a shredded, mangled piece of terrycloth. It looked like a velociraptor or rabid dog had gotten hold of it and used it for teeth-sharpening. There were spots where the fabric had melted a bit, which smelled quite gross but were crunchy and fun to poke. Incredibly, the rest of my clothes were completely unscathed, if still a bit wet. But lord, that towel...

I should have seen the Destruction of Towel #1 as a sign that perhaps the dryer was done working for the night. That it had thrown in the towel (get it?? har har). But after extracting the ruined piece of blue fluff from the machine's bowels, I threw everything else back in there and turned it on again. (Let me interject here--I always use the "low heat" setting, since I don't want my clothes to suddenly become child-sized...so no, this all was NOT the result of the dryer overheating, because there was supposed to be NO heat involved.)

I went back upstairs to eat a muffin and watch Biggest Loser. We were only about 15 minutes in when I heard loud banging coming from the basement. "Oh fuck," I whispered as I hurled myself down the steps once again. The sight that met my eyes was HORRIFYING. Remember in Home Alone when Kevin was afraid of the furnace in the basement because it made loud noises and resembled a face and then the grate opened like it was going to EAT HIM? Well, that's sort of what my dryer reminded me of. It was shaking so violently that it was banging into the walls on either side and making dents in the plaster. Steam was streaming from the door. Before the dryer had the chance to, like, EXPLODE IN A BALL OF FIERY FURY, I ran to it and turned the timer to Off.

I was breathing hard. Not sure if it was from my sprint down the stairs or from the poisonous fumes that were undoubtedly swirling around in the basement. I thought about how it might not be a bad idea to put a yellow canary down there next to the dryer to at least WARN ME about these things in the future. Ever so carefully, I opened the dryer, expecting to see a melted heap of burnt sadness where my clothes had once been. Instead, I saw the spiderweb-like tangledness of my OTHER blue cheap-as-dirt towel. WTF?! That one hadn't even been frayed before I threw it in there! Astonishingly enough, as if by the grace of god, the rest of my clothes remained totally unharmed.

After I ripped Destroyed Towel #2 from the clench of the dryer, do you know what I did? I turned that nasty, traitorous machine back on. I mean, I NEEDED dry clothes to wear to work today. I had no other option. Even if it was still summer and not rainy October, I can't just hang my clothes outside to dry in the sunshine. The homeless men from the park nearby will sense there is free clothing a mere block away and come take it all. And then a week later I would see some guy wearing my favorite pair of lacy boyshorts and my pink cardigan. I CANNOT HAVE THAT HAPPEN!

In the end, the moody dryer gladly accepted my clothes and dried them perfectly. I guess I will just have to remember in the future to buy nicer towels, since that accursed machine will not tolerate crappy $2 towels from Target. I have been warned.