We bought this old house ten years ago. We inherited the washing machine. It has sat in the cellar since we moved in and has, for the most part, served us well without complaint or complication. Until last week. It simply died. Bereft of life and full of water, it refused to wash more. We decided it was time to let it go to the happy washing ground in the sky rather than try to repair a fifteen year old machine. The hunt was on then. Where do we get a new washing machine at a reasonable price? Timing is everything, they say, and right now, the January sales are on. Bravo. Score one for us.
Off, then, to the mall. Or the “maul” as I like to call it. Having read all the brochures and advertising that fills our post box every weekend, we knew where to go for a bargain, so that part of the search was easy. We trooped off to the local hardware merchants with a pretty good idea of what we wanted. Until we got in there. My wife suddenly decided to up the ante. There were special features she wanted and she wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
Having seen her in action at the car sales, I decided to let her go for it. I wasn’t getting anything from the salesman so I set the wife on him, which is a bit like letting an angry bull terrier loose on a teddy bear. It’s no contest. She asked him a thousand questions. Compared just about every machine to every other machine. Argued price, finish, design, programming, washing capacity and energy usage. Yep, she’s thorough. I got bored and began pressing buttons and stuff, to no avail because none of the machines were connected to either power or water supplies. It passed the time.
Finally I heard some “OK” noises from the direction of the beleaguered salesman and so I went to see what was happening. Turns out, my wife had done it again. She bagged a brand new machine for about 60% of the asking price. It’s a beaut. Hotpoint, holds 16 pounds of laundry, energy efficient, hot and cold wash, all the programming possibilities one could ask for and it looks kind of nice too. The model has an unfortunate number. It’s called a..
“WMD 960 P”
WMD? I guess it’s a “washer of mass destruction”…!
Which will be a reasonable excuse for not touching it and thereby free myself from blame if it ever blows up.
We had to wait a week for delivery. That is to say, delivery to the store. I had to go pick it up myself. No problem with my car, it’s an estate version, but it was in the workshop so we had to wait a few days more.
I collected it yesterday. Drove it home, ripped out the old machine and installed the new. Easy. All we have to do now is catch up on fourteen days laundry.
I know what I’m going to be doing this weekend.