Life and Laundry
We got a new washing machine today.
Our old one unexpectedly conked out last week while I was in New York, hours before we were to leave for Mammoth.
There were already piles of laundry all over the house and a week later, they are so big we practically can’t see past them.
Our old machine was a good machine.
It lasted close to eight years. It was white and shiny and strong. It was state of the art when we got it, a big purchase for a young married couple with a (then) brand new baby.
Today, the new one was wheeled in by the nice delivery men.
It looks like a great machine.
It’s dark grey (platinum, they call it) and shiny and strong. It’s supposed to be extra quiet, extra powerful, extra everything. A big purchase for a busy couple with two young kids and a lot of laundry.
We looked at this new machine and instantly fell in love. You know how when you become a married couple and new washing machines bring you delight and you look around and wonder when you became that person who gets excited about a washing machine…that kind of love.
“Wow, it looks so much better than the old one, doesn’t it?” my husband remarked, a certain level of satisfaction in his voice.
It does, I thought. But then so did the old one when we got it. White and shiny and strong.
It looked good because it replaced the even older stackable set that came with our previous rental apartment in Los Angeles. Those were so old they were off-white. No digital anything, no screens, no front load window. Hand me downs from strangers, but we loved them just the same.
Because those stackables were the first ones we ever had IN our own apartment after more than a decade of trudging down to dark, creepy building basements with a handful of quarters. Years of packing a hamper full of darks and whites into the car to take to my mom’s on every weekend visit. Years of hanging clothes over the shower curtain rod, willing them to dry in time for work in the morning.
This new machine looks really good.
And so did the one before it and the one before that.
As with most things in life.
It’s always nice to appreciate where you are, but it’s even more important to appreciate every step that got you there. And how good it was.
Because the machine may be better and the screen may be brighter and the color may be shinier…but the piles of laundry are still the exact same, aren’t they?
*image above via Death to the Stock Photo