Ode to a Washing Machine

Well, it finally happened.  My washing machine has moved on to greener pastures.  Bought the farm.  Gone to Davy Jones' locker.  After a healthy 17 years of service, she's finally being retired.  We had a good run together.  Three states, six moves, five roommates.

If you figure that I washed an average of four loads of laundry per week, my cost per wash was $0.08 per load for a washer that I paid only $100 for used.  Not too shabby.

Towards the end she really began to decline pretty quickly.  There was a problem with the sensor and in order to make it run properly without shutting off mid-cycle I had to weight down the lid with various objects.  First, it was one 10 pound weight (its not like I ever used it anyway).  Then, I had to use TWO ten pound weights (again, they were getting rusty from not being used by me).  Eventually, twenty pounds didn't cut the mustard and I started to create precarious pyramids on the washer lid with weights on the bottom and various detergent buckets, apple juice bottles and half-empty paint cans on the top.  Soon, this was not enough either.  We then tried to make Laurie do something useful when she is in the house in the afternoons lounging. 

 She didn't care for her new assignment.  It was a successful, yet short-lived, venture. 

After much contemplation and research on consumerreports.org (one of my favorite websites of all time), I finally found "the one".  What, might you ask, did I choose?  I don't really like to venture out of my comfort zone very much, so I got a nearly identical model to my former workhorse, only 17 years younger.  AND, the part I'm most excited about is the fact that there was a little, teeny-tiny, microscopic, insignificant scratch on the lid and therefore I paid $150 less than it was originally listed at.  Seriously, folks, who cares if your washer looks great on the outside.  Within twelve hours of purchasing this washer there were clothes with cattle poop on the inside of it.  Lets keep things in perspective here. 

So now my dearly beloved retired washer is setting on our front porch.  Classy, right?  Wesley and I have just not been at our home at the same time long enough to get it moved.  I think that Grandma Curry is getting a little anxious, though, wondering if it will become a permanent fixture in my decorating scheme.  I'm thinking of setting a pot of flowers on top of the agitator inside the tub and seeing if she flips out.  Not terribly nice of me, I know, but I think its a safe venture.  She went to the doctor a few weeks ago and they said that her pacemaker was in tip-top shape!