As I write this I am waiting for delivery of our new washing machine. I haven’t looked forward to a delivery so much in a long time. (Except perhaps a certain box from Penguin Random House which is due soon too.)
We’ve a house full of dirty clothes and we’re both down to our last clean garments. If the washing machine wasn’t being delivered today, I know what we’d be doing tonight. Laundromat duty.
I have nothing against Laundromats, mind. The first ten years after I left home I washed my clothes at the local Laundromat. But once you get a washing machine in your home it’s hard to go back to packing your dirty laundry in a basket, collecting coins and soap powder—and a book to read—and making the trek down to the laundry.
It’s so convenient to come home at night, toss your clothes into the washer and have them in the dryer by the time you’re eating dinner.
We all know how indispensable a washing machine is. And a dryer.
Another modern convenience I never anticipated wanting was a dishwasher. I mean, who minds washing up? (We all do, I suppose, but it doesn’t take that long.)
This house had a dishwasher when we moved in. At first we only used it when we had a lot of dishes to wash, usually when we had visitors. After all, who wants to wash up when you’d rather be chatting to your guests? It didn’t take long before we were using it full time.
When the dishwasher finally broke down there wasn’t any question as to whether we would buy another one, just what sort. We bought a two-drawer that was more suited to the smaller loads. When that one gave up recently the only question was, “How soon can we get the replacement?”
Ah, first world problems.