Washing Machine Woes

I love my washing machine.

Most of the time.

I picked it out after a whole day of diligent research. I knew what I could afford and when I went to Sears (don't knock it - any company that's been around as long as Sears AND used to sell mail-order homes is A-OK in my book!) I knew exactly the model I wanted to look at.

Right next to the model I could afford was a souped-up version of my machine. Just, you know, sitting there looking way shinier and flashier than the one I decided on earlier. The souped-up machine had a see-through glass top and instead of a regular agitator it just had a little round mound on the bottom.

The sales man explained to me how the souped-up model, while two hundred dollars more expensive could hold more laundry, had more buttons and could, you know, perform exorcisms on demand and make lunch for the kids.

My well planned shopping excursion hit a snag. More Buttons? More Laundry? Holy Monkey Butts! I needed that washing machine. I hemmed and hawed, walked between the two models to the point where I scuffed up the shiny waxed floor. The man flitted between me and another customer but I kept asking him more and more questions: warranty? rebates? sales?

In the end, being as budget conscious as possible, I stuck with my original plan: Buy the less expensive but still fully functional machine and be satisfied with that.

Oh! How I sometimes hate that decision. Because every. single. time. I need to wash blankets (which is often as we don't like to use flat sheets and we have long haired cats that insist upon shedding all their fur on the blankets) this happens:

And the blankets get so waterlogged and twisted around it is nearly impossible for me to pull them out.

Attack of the Socks

Without a doubt, as much as I love doing laundry, I hate folding socks. I hate it so much that 90% of the time socks sit around in baskets like this:

(Yes that is an entire basket of unmatched, unfolded, unloved socks.)

Putting the size of the basket in perspective... Cyra standing by the basket looking all punky.

They lurk in the basket, multiplying, just waiting for someone to come and pull a pair out. Most of the time, they are unmatched, but who cares? I say, if they are on your feet and in shoes, it doesn’t matter whether they match or not, right? Besides, genetics being what they are, the best you can hope for is a similar color.

I’d just as soon buy more socks then spend time folding them, but there comes a time when the socks must be put back in their place. So today, my super awesome last day of freedom until spring break, I spent doing laundry and sorting socks.

All matched, folded and ready to be put away. Left to right: Mine, Cyra's, Scott's and Ashleigh's socks!

The last few unmatched socks that I wanted to keep (I know they have mates somewhere!).

What a day. What a pile of socks to get rid of!

At least Junie enjoyed the Great Sock Disposal - she'll get new sock toys!