I am a woman of a certain age. That age when moisturizer and under-eye cream are a necessity, instead of a luxury. That age when it’s better to pay for a pedicure because I don’t see well enough to paint my own toenails anymore and end up with more paint on my skin than that sliver of nail that dots my pinky toe. That age when shapewear is creeping to dailywear rather than just eveningwear. That age when new appliances sound like great gifts!
So this year, when my birthday morning came, I was surprised to not have flowers waiting for me on the breakfast room table. I always get flowers and cards from the kids and the dogs on my birthday. Then The Hubs sheepishly mentioned that he had to work that night instead of taking us to dinner. Well, I was pretty hot. But rather than make him feel bad about it, well okay I did try to make him feel a little bad about it for a bit, I recognized my opportunity.
“Well, I expect you to fire the person that scheduled a 7:30 p.m. meeting,” I demanded.
“Well, actually, I was the one that scheduled the meeting,” he replied. “I just didn’t realize the date when I announced it. I just knew it was a Monday, I didn’t know the date.”
“What? My birthday should be circled on every calendar you have, and it should say, ‘buy Melanie a large, expensive gift’ in the date box. Frankly, it should be THE most important date of the year for you!”
Poor The Hubs. I tried to look sad and wounded. But I didn’t want to overplay my hand. I was going for hurt, not entitled, overindulged crazy-train. Because I knew the meeting was important, he wouldn’t schedule something at night if it weren’t. Nothing is more important to him than being home with his family.
And y’all, he really did look pitiful. He would never hurt my feelings or make me feel unimportant on purpose. And that’s when I knew I had him.
“Well, I know how you can make it up to me,” I sniffled. “I want a new washer. And matching dryer!”
“Done!” he said. I am pretty sure he would have agreed to anything to get me to be quiet.
When my brother called me that afternoon, I told him what I had conned The Hubs into. He couldn’t believe I wanted something new when I already had perfectly serviceable machines at home. I believe he threw in the words “spoiled” and “brat.” I explained to him that I bought my washer used 10 years ago. The porcelain is chipping in the washbasin, which sometimes tears the clothes, and the ball bearings are out. It costs as much to fix the noisy machine as it costs to purchase a new one. And I wanted the dryer to match, so yes, bratty.
I researched washers online and surveyed my Facebook folks. Everyone disagreed. Some folks love the front load washers. They just cautioned me that after I was done, I needed to wipe down the inside, dry the seals and leave the door open to prevent mustiness. Now, frankly, no one has time for this. I don’t even dry my kids off after the bath, much less dry my washer. I don’t understand how anything that costs $1,000 needs so much work. And my laundry room is tight. If I left the door open, I couldn’t get out.
Some of you love the top loader machines, but there was no consensus as to whether an agitator was good or bad. Some companies don’t even make their machines with agitators any more. Others decried the energy-efficient models. How on earth do clothes that don’t ever get fully wet actually get clean? The only thing y’all agreed on was that I should get the largest capacity washer possible.
I read everyone’s reviews carefully, then made a chart and highlighted pro’s and con’s. I watched demo videos online, read all the online reviews I could find. But it was all for naught. Apparently, The Hubs had already been doing the same thing for two months. He had read reviews, checked the consumer reports, watched the videos and interviewed appliance folks. The man is thorough!
He got me the super capacity top loading washer from LG and the matching dryer with the steam function. I may never use the dry cleaner again! And the best part, it holds up to 30 pounds, that’s right, 30 pounds of laundry. If I switch everyone in my house to an all-black wardrobe, I can literally be done with the wash in one load. Best part, the machines are so quiet I don’t even hear them. The worst part is how tall they are. I have to stand on my tiptoes and bend over into the basin of the washing machine to grab all the wet clothes.
Maybe for my birthday next year, I should ask for one of those grabber tools marketed to the elderly. On second thought, maybe I’ll just ask for fancy platform sneakers instead. It’s one thing to be a woman of a certain age, another to feel like it!