So. Last week our washing machine stopped working. Instead of agitating, it made this pitiful sick sound. We discovered this late on Saturday, so Sunday morning I took my weeks washing, the sheets and bits and bobs for Grace and Gerard to the Laundromat. Via the trash and treasure market (oh the joy of wandering around by myself). It was not a totally unpleasant experience. Especially once I'd got the washing in the car, found somewhere to park, found somewhere to get sufficient change for three machines, lugged the washing out of the car, placed it in the washing machines. The next bit was good, I took some photos, read the paper, ate an early lunch (Lebanese lamb pastry, yum).
Then, taking the wet washing out of the machines, I realised that wet washing takes up more room than dry washing and my baskets weren't really big enough. D'oh! Put it back in the car and headed home. And stood outside hanging three loads of washing on the line all at once while fielding questions and requests from Grace and fearing that I'd never actually get the washing on the line by the end of the day. I did, but it all felt more rushed, more time pressured than it rationally should have.
It cost twelve dollars to do the washing. I can see how a washing machine would pay for itself fairly quickly. Which probably explains why most people have one and the laundromat is not overrun with people trying to save money by using it. Anyway, after some discussion we decided not to fix the old machine, as we intended to replace it with a front loader in the near future anyway. So we are going shopping for a new washer tomorrow. Oh the excitement! Front loader! Big! Efficient! Water wise! No lint! Clean clothes!