Gina and Mel often mention how stacks of family laundry are the bane of their existence. But I'm spoiled and our laundry rarely requires my personal attention. I live with Wendy, Mistress of Laundry Efficiency and Dedicated Provider of Clean Fresh Panties.
When we returned from our vacation, immediately she scrambled to unpack our suitcases. Her primary motivation was to begin processing the laundry as we both had to work the next day. A marvelous side effect was that all the crap we brought home with us was put away promptly. I don't recall what I was doing while she was industriously working. I'm certain it was equally as productive.
The whites went in first, fortuitously as it turned out. Halfway through the second load, our washing machine emitted a foul burning smell and ceased agitating. Hmmm. We looked at it, poked a few buttons, gave it a kick, turned a few knobs, looked at it some more. Then we shrugged and decided we'd deal with it later. At least we had clean panties!
Yesterday morning, the washing machine repairman pulled into the driveway and 30 minutes later declared the machine kaput. Lovely. As he headed out the door, he glanced over at where Cosine was fast asleep on the dog bed. She hadn't moved since he arrived. He looked concerned and said, "Is that dog okay?"
I smiled and assured him that yes, she was fine. Just old and unaware. But fine.
Farewell, old washer. You did us proud. We loved the way we could stuff the king-sized comforter into you and have it gently laundered to sweet smelling fluffy freshness. We adored the efficiency with which you processed a load of any size. We cherished the simplicity of your controls, your flexible options for water levels and temperatures, your bright white exterior and your sleek black buttons. Farewell, old washer, farewell.
Now we must go shopping for the replacement. That's something every family returning from a vacation wants to do: spend more money.