Washing the Washer.

Maybe I should not divulge this information.

It might disgust you.

I probably ought to be thoroughly embarrassed with myself, that yesterday was the first day in my entire life that I have ever washed...



...my washing machine.

I have often heard people sharing tips on how to wash a washing machine. But I quickly dismissed those tips. Actually I am pretty sure that in my head I scoffed at the waste of time it would be to wash a washing machine.  It seemed just about as important to me as learning how to fold a fitted bed sheet. What's the point? Just roll it up tight and shove it in the linen closet, right? Well, I may still not be a believer in spending time folding a fitted bed sheet, however my sentiments about a clean washing machine are-a-changin'.

It was Wednesday morning of this week. I opened the lid of the machine to empty the wet clothes into the dryer. When a gush of nasty-onion-scented-mildewy-odor flooded up into my nostrils. It was putrid.

It may have had something to do with the fact that that particular load of laundry had quite a few sets of my workout clothes in it.  My work out clothes are o-l-d, and I wear them a lot. And I sweat in them a lot. And, let's be honest, my sweat s-t-i-n-k-s.

But still, even after I emptied the machine and let it air out for a while, the putrescence remained in full force.

I realized the time had come for me to clean that darn washing machine.

So I did.

Two cups of vinegar (I was out of regular distilled, so I ended up using a three part mixture of cider vinegar, white wine vinegar, and balsamic vinegar. It was funky), some elbow grease, a washing machine full of scalding hot water, and about 30 minutes, was all it took for my washing machine to be clean!

That old beast has never looked, or smelled, better to me.

I can't walk by it without feeling a surge of newly found love for it's old, beat up, metal self. It's clean, it's clean, it's clean, I chant to myself. And I love it.

Who knows I may just make a habit out of it now.