Last week I decided to do laundry. Hard to believe, I know, but Andy was out of town and wasn’t going to be back for a while, and so I had to do it. I tossed all my work clothes in, added soap, got things swooshing, and went about my evening. About twenty minutes later I smelled smoke. No big deal…folks are always burning stuff around here. I looked out the window to search for the smoke, and I realized it was raining. It had been raining all day.

I found the smoke about thirty seconds later when I ran downstairs and opened the doors to the laundry room. A thick cloud of burning-tire-smelling smoke filled the laundry room. I yanked the washer cord out of the wall and tried to chase kitties upstairs and opened windows and turned on fans and called my mommy and daddy.

Too bad all my work clothes were in the washer all wet and soapy. I pondered calling in to work the next day, but “All my clothes were in the washer when it burnt up” seemed a bit too much like “My dog ate my homework.” I wrung the clothes out as best I could, drug them upstairs to the bathtub, filled the bathtub with water, and danced on the clothes to try to work the soap out. Luckily the dryer was still working.

Andy came home a few days later, and off we trooped to buy a new washing machine. We found what we wanted online, went to the store to place our order, and sat back to wait for its arrival today. When we ordered the washer, we made it clear to the salesperson that our driveway was scary and twisty and slopy and bumpy. He said he would call and warn the delivery people.

==INTERMISSION==

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The washer was supposed to be delivered today. The driver called and said he was on his way, so Andy kept an eye out for him. A while later, he saw the truck way down at the end of the driveway. He waited. And waited. But the truck didn’t come. So, Andy hiked down the driveway and the truck driver said he couldn’t get the truck in the driveway. He was pulling the washer out of the box and loading it up onto a dolly. The driver was going to push our new washer the quarter mile of twisty, bumpy driveway to our house. Now that is a good, solid work ethic.

In addition to being a devoted delivery dude, this guy was also incredibly good with people. When an older guy approached in his pickup, delivery dude jumped into the middle of the road and waved the truck guy down. Delivery dude then convinced truck guy to transport our new washing machine from the road to our house.

You’d think now would be the end of the story and confetti and balloons would fall from the sky and we’d all cheer and wash clothes.

The washer wouldn’t fit through the door.

Bits of the door had to come off, and the washer got in. Delivery dude hooked things up, and after a bit of cursing our plumbing got things swirlin’ and whirlin’.

Things were pretty much golden for us at that point, but not for delivery dude. He still had the small matter of a burnt up washing machine to deal with. The truck guy was long since gone, but the dolly was there. Yup, delivery dude loaded the old machine onto the dolly and pushed it that quarter of a mile over hills and dales, past sheep and ducks, through clouds of gnats and poison dart frogs, and back to his truck.

I hope we weren’t supposed to tip.