Washers can really drive a person nuts

Many things strike terror in homeowners’ hearts, and finding a loose washer lying around is way, way up on the terror-striking list.

After a day of house cleaning, Taller Half and I were enjoying a quiet, relaxing evening at home. Our house hummed contentedly, delighted to be freshly scrubbed, vacuumed and dusted.

Suddenly, our peaceful calm was shattered with the discovery of little round metal things lying on the rug. Taller Half looked down, saw them and said, very quietly, “The washers are loose.” We were stunned.

There, on our freshly vacuumed rug, were several small, metal washers. Where had they come from? How did they get there? The possibilities were frightening. Something in our house had shed washers; something in our house was getting ready to come apart.

Being experienced homeowners, we checked all plumbing, appliances, fixtures and furniture for signs of missing washers. All were intact. Our house seemed in good shape with no obvious major complaints.

Just as we relaxed, more washers appeared. We found several more on the
living room rug, another in the kitchen and yet another in a bedroom. Our house was littered with loose washers, and we didn’t know why. Frantic thoughts ran through our minds. Perhaps we were being invaded by an alien race of “washer creatures.” Perhaps our place was offering sanctuary to homeless washers.

Something or someone was trying to drive us crazy. We had become obsessed with washers. We queried friends and neighbors to see if they were missing any, but all that accomplished was to make them question our sanity.

We were on the verge, perhaps, of actually going insane when we were saved by a visit from our son. He spied a washer on the floor, picked it up and placed it very carefully on the blade of the ceiling fan. These things make great balancing weights for the fan, he informed us.

Ah, yes, that’s where the washers came from. Relieved, we went back to relaxing after a day of anxiety and flirting with insanity. We never mention our mysterious encounter with the washers. Can you blame us?