Our washing machine is making noises I am uncomfortable with. The bad news is, I already know it's broken. It hasn't been working right in a couple of weeks, and Brent took the back off to discover that the belt is worn out. It no longer spins. No agitation means maybe-not-so-clean, and also that the clothes come out soaking wet.
To tell the landlord or not to tell the landlord.... One of the 100 Crap Things About Renting in Buenos Aires is that the landlord doesn't take care of anything. You pay your rent, thinking you are protected in case something breaks, which at home is a great benefit of renting vs. buying. Here, it's up to you. This is how we ended up paying to fix the toilet a few weeks ago, among other things. So we're faced with paying to fix something that simply wore out, which means it was wearing long before we ever got here -- we just happen to be the unlucky ones holding the hot potato -- or just letting our clothes soak in soapy water as the machine makes these disturbing noises for two more weeks.
There is no good news about this, really, except that we will hopefully be moving out in two more weeks. We still haven't found our new place, but it's coming, I can feel it. I need a new washing machine.
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