I have a washing machine in my new apartment. It’s a tiny 3kg very VERY basic effort.
I am in love.
Never before have I been quite so in love with an inanimate object. Henry the hoover is probably the closest I have been to being quite so in love. Well there was my 40th birthday present bed too. Hmm, quite a lot of things now I put my mind to it.
Anyway I digress.
My washing machine is the envy of many (well at least two). Although this is all slightly previous as it hasn’t yet completed its first load. It’s not new, just new to me. In true Greek fashion it’s been plumbed into the bathroom - Health and Safety would have a fit. It is currently doing its thing with my test load (towels and a couple of bikinis). It’s reassuringly noisy and is letting me know exactly how hard its working. I can live with that if it means no hand washing (who am I kidding… prior to this I was down the laundry at an extortionate 10 euros a pop).
Well, it’s whipping round the cycle at a rate of knots and I’ve only just realized that there’s no spin cycle. Ah well. I am no less in love with my washing machine. Labour saving devices rule… Oh and I just heard a rumble of thunder. Of course. I would expect no less….
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