Be careful what you wish...

I killed my washing machine yesterday. I killed it good. It's dead. I apparently overloaded it one too many times. This is not what I meant when I said I needed something new and exciting to happen to me. It was bound to happen, though. It was an ancient machine that came with the house when we bought it. I think it's the drive belt because I smell burning rubber when I turn it on and it won't rotate the agitator. I'm pretty sure it's the drive belt. I tried to open the front panel to check it out, but I can't figure out how to get it open. I tried lifting the top of the machine, but it won't budge. I think it might be rusted in place because I see the hinges at the back, so it should lift up. Anyway, as I've mentioned, from the design of it, this machine looks to be older than me which makes it soooooo unworthy of being fixed. Buying the five-dollar belt probably costs more than the machine is worth. So we went to Lowe's tonight to buy a new machine.

I always intended to just use the washer and dryer that came with the house until they passed on, but you're still never prepared for the moment. You're never prepared to shell out the bucks for a major appliance. What I did know was that when it came time to buy a new washer, I wanted the Mac Daddy, humongo-load machine. I got something pretty good, I think; although, I'm nervous because it's the model the salesman directed us toward and I always worry about the one the salesman shows to you because there's a reason for it. It's not because they think it's the best machine there, though, I'll tell you that. He's getting something for selling that machine to me, I just know it. I know it as well as I know my boobs are sagging. It also has buttons for all the operations. Not even buttons, really. Just sort of semi-raised squares of plastic. There's no bulky, ratchety knob to turn. That makes me a little nervous, too. I've never operated a washing machine without a knob. I'm afraid without the knob. I like having the knob to hold on to.

Of course, the salesman tried to be sly and slip in that old extended warranty thing. I put the kabbosh on that pretty fast. No, no extended warranty for me.

"Well, instead of the four-year extended warranty, we can just give you the two-year warranty that only adds another fifty dollars," he said.

"No," I repeated. "No extended warranty for me." Then I pierced him with my evil eye that shows I mean business.

"OK, no extended warranty, then."

So the new machine is supposed to be delivered tomorrow and they'll take away the old one. Then the washing shall commence. Ha, ha, ha, ha.

I still wish for something new and exciting. Just something free next time.