The Washing Machine

One of our colleagues was trying to get rid of a washing machine. It was a beautiful machine with a two-tone color scheme (the plastic bits were faded to off-white while the metal stayed white) and it even worked -- at least on one setting. It took three hours to wash a load and when it finally got done it gave a 120 volt shock to anyone who opened the door, unless they were wearing shoes. 

The front of the machine boasted "800 cycles." I did the math and discovered that, at a rate of 1 cycle per week, this machine should have lasted 15 years. In other words, it should have died half a decade ago. But then I took into account the bachelor who had owned it, re-worked my calculations, and concluded that it should be good for another 14 years or so. In fact, it may still be under warranty.

The machine also boasts an "automatically variable capacity." I have witnessed this spectacle with my own eyes. When the machine contains a largish load it shakes and quivers and convulses to make sure that the clothes are properly scrubbed together. It's called the "Cha-Cha Overdrive." 

Such a quality device is always assured a place of love in someone's home, and such was the case for this one. Another of our colleagues agreed to adopt it, and I believe some money may have even been exchanged on the deal, though I'm not sure which direction the money went.

I, because of my magnanimous character, agreed to help move this machine. I also felt somewhat responsible for it because I had used it for some time. If you look deep into the annals of my blog you discover an incident in which a washing machine installation project nearly flooded our bathroom. That was this same glorious machine.

I already helped move one washing machine out of this same apartment building, and it had been more excitement than I cared for. I ended up riding it down the stairs like a angry bull and only narrowly escaped serious bodily harm. So this time I took necessary precaution- I got my colleague to take the dangerous end. 

We maneuvered the machine down the stairs, out the door, and into the bed of a pickup truck with surprisingly little hassle. We did snag an electrical cord on the tailgate, but the odds are 5/6 that it was for one of the cycles that doesn't work anyway.

However, we realized that the clunker was going to be a beast to carry up three floors in the stairway that I described in a post last week. So when we arrived we asked around for help, and we happily found a third guy to help us out. However, before we had ascended two stairs we realized that there wasn't room for three guys and a washing machine in the stairwell. So the new guy took the bottom, I took the top, and up the stairs we went. One step at a time, all three floors, without stopping.

 I would have loved to stop but I wasn't sure I would be able to pick it up again. After half a flight of stairs the bungee strap (elastic band) that was holding various components in place popped off, and that had been my handle. I was left with nothing to hold onto but the metal itself, and my sweaty hands were sliding at a rate of 1/2 inch per second. I had to keep re-grabbing so the machine it didn't slide out of my hands and cause another toboggan-run-down-the-stairwell event. I wouldn't have been the driver this time, but I didn't want to be a bystander either.

We eventually got the machine into the apartment upstairs. That's when we realized that it was two wide to slide between the sink and the toilet in the bathroom. We finally decided to tilt it 45˚ on it's face and slide it that way. We pinned my colleague in the corner so he had to hop over the toilet, gave another shove, and PRESTO! it was in place. Only then did we realize that the door of the washing machine was too close to the toilet and there was no way to open it.  

So we wiggled it around, tipped it back on its face, my colleague hurdled over the toilet again, we pushed it out, spun it around 90˚, tilted it on its side, just managed to squeeze it between the toilet and the sink, pinned my colleague in the corner again so he had to hurdle the toilet one last time, wiggled some more, and finally it was in place. 

Then we realized that somebody needs to come in and drill some holes for the plumbing behind this thing anyway. Odds are, we'll need to move it again.