Funny thing about warranties. You never need them until you need them.

Take my fairly new washing machine, for instance. When I bought my new house last summer, I figured it was time to get one of those fancy front-loaders that were all the rage. It’s what all the pretty people on TV were using and it would obviously bring just as much joy to my life as it did theirs, so I was sold hook, line and sinker.

For one year I did laundry with my fancy new front-loader. Was my life more joyful? Maybe. But I’m thinking that might have been just a coincidence.

And then it finally happened Saturday. I stuffed my bedsheets into my pretty people washing machine, shut the door and the whole thing freaked out on me. “E1! E1! E1!” was flashing red at me as it made this loud humming noise. I turned off the power and the “E1” went away, but the humming continued and the door locked, holding my detergent-drizzled bedding hostage.

After multiple attempts at flipping the breaker — by the way, I feel so manly when I do that — the washing machine wasn’t changing its tune so I thought, “Ha! I just bought this thing when I moved in last summer! It’s still under that one-year warranty and I might be getting a brand new one!”

Well, guess what. I bought that machine on July 4, 2014. It broke on July 18, 2015 — exactly 2 weeks past the warranty.

But I have a home warranty, right? Oh, that expired on July 12. But it made me feel a little better when I read everything it covered and a washing machine was nowhere on the list.

So while I’m rationing underwear until either a miracle repair man walks into my life or I buy a new washing machine, I decided to distract myself with some of life’s simple pleasures — like embarrassing my daughter as I hooted and hollered a little too loudly for the Black and White Knight at Medieval Times. Yes, my passion for Sir Crew continues!