My Internal Alarm and the Extended Wash and Spin

I haven’t set an alarm since arriving in Armenia- this from the girl who pressed the snooze button every 9 minutes between 8 and 9 a.m. almost every day last semester. The button became an on-again, off-again lover of sorts, always returning no matter how many times I jammed, smacked, prodded and threw it away. Of all my triumphs, this is the most satisfying, the most surprising. It is no wonder that I have jumped and ran around- but an internal alarm? I really have changed. (Although no so much that I didn’t just knock on the wooden table at work, just in case).

Upon rising, around 7:15 a.m., just 15 minutes after our water hours began (we can only use water in the house between 7 am-10am and 6 pm-9pm), I loaded some intimates and essentials into our front load washing machine. Step 1, check. I picked up the detergent, shook some into the “right-looking” side-compartment on the machine. Step 2, check. Wash day was going swimmingly. But, as I looked over at the buttons, ready to tear open my Armenian dictionary and translate with my new, emboldened language skills, I realized that they were written was Russian. Russian, I did not sign up for this. Conveniently, I live with a Russian speaker who was, however, inconveniently sleeping. I was on my own- no language skills, no turning back. I was trailblazing new paths right there in my modest kitchen next to the fruit basket and portable stovetop. I guessed at a few buttons, shrugged, let go and let God (right, Ma?).

Finally, two + hours later the sucker starting spinning away, wildly, sending the cereal boxes (oh what wonder it is to once again start the morning with cereal and milk and tea) teetering. My laundry was done. Ah, but the door wouldn’t budge. Since when are there locks on washing machine doors, I asked myself. A little more prodding got the porthole open and I pulled out my hot (so that’s what 60°C meant?) and wet (no spin cycle?) and clean (aha, success) clothes.

Anoush (sweet/fresh) from the ATDA office,

Samantha