Everything breaks at once

Or so it seems. Right now, the Vibe is getting repaired because a deer thought it looked like a nice thing to run into. We've been making do with a mini-vacuum for months because the real one was disassembled, with scissors...and the hose broke inside the casing. Our dishwasher is schizophrenic. And now, for the piece de la resistance...our control panel has died on our washing maching.
Today my mission: to schedule a washing machine repair.
My tools: the internet and Nick Jr.
Let the games begin.
It started benignly enough, clicking on the "service" section of Whirlpool's website...entering contact information,etc. What appliance needs service? Washer. What is the model & serial #? Have. no. clue. Why can't I just type in Duet Sport and be done with it...but noooo, they have to have numbers. Must be men who run this company.
I text my husband who keeps these things on file.
He texts back the model # is "xxxx,Idon'tcare,whoknows". And that he has no idea what the serial number is. I can either wait until he gets home, or act like a grown-up, go to the basement, and look for myself on the inside of the washer door.
For a moment, I entertain the idea of waiting until he gets home...but that would delay the appointment by at least a day...and with 8 people in the house, every day without a working washing machine counts.
So I do what any other basement-slime-bug phobic female would do. I call a friend, and keep them on the phone while I go down there to look...and yes, it was a male friend. Testerone counts in these situations!
Down there, I almost fall on my butt on the slimy floor because, genius that I am, I'm wearing mocks. Those rubber shoes that mock you every time you step somewhere smooth and wet.
At this point the control panel still read F-28, so thinking maybe my husband just didn't try hard enough when pressing the cancel button, I do so, and hold it down just in case. The whole flippin display goes black and won't come back on. I try unplugging it, and plugging it in a different outlet. Great, I've taken it from broken to dead.
I then find the serial number, get out my pen, and realize I don't have paper....and yes, my friend is still on the phone, desperately trying not to laugh at me. Men. Really. I should have called a girlfriend. My gal pals would totally get this. They would have told me to make dh do it when he got home, and I'd be upstairs with my kids, instead of down here, wondering what Si and Princess P are destroying....
Finally, I tear a piece off a brown paper bag, to write on with my pen that has orange ink? Good thing I'm not color blind it'll do.
Get the number down. Get upstairs. Thank my friend on the phone. Request service. I get the confirmation. It just says "washer."