We don't believe people who say they don't fight and we don't believe that an absence of fighting is a good thing. Should've added that to My Believe. Sure there are horrific fights and really the content is what matters in general anyway. Small fights over the garbage or big fights of infidelity, clearly not the same and clearly the fighting is not the issue. But we bicker, we pick, I nag, condescend and leave the dishes next to the sink. What we have really come to blows about though - the washing machine and dryer. No, not doing laundry. The actual machines. Because there is no issue over doing laundry. Magoo is on top of that. On top. Seriously. Is that shirt dirty? I think I saw a stain. No really it is soiled. He is on it like flies to honey or whatever the expression is. It is not a question of getting it done or even getting it folded. Though there have been conversations about proper sorting. Towels don't go with clothes. Ever. Sorry they just don't. And only once was there some tie-dying going on. But for the majority of the time that is his domain. Yet we have managed to duke it out over the machines going several rounds and counting. Primarily because of his love and need to clean every article of clothing regardless of dirt level or length of wear. In this world apparently you need machines and you need them NOW. Or else the laundry monsters will come get you and hold you hostage for ransom doled out in Tide bottles.
When Magoo moved in with me in November my stackable was on its last legs. It worked fine for a gal who did laundry in months that began with August and who had access to her parents machine, the dry cleaner, and her boyfriend's machines (his were sold in the move, as they did not fit in the condo and no, we did not know we were moving.) But stackable last leg lassie was not good enough for the laundry King. We first imported a donated used machine, promised not to be on its last leg. It took us a solid day of moving and arranging to get the thing in requiring removal of trim, paint and probably my head at some point. Since I know Magoo wanted to kill me on quite possibly seven different occasions and I quite nearly attended my Holiday party alone. Well, we are not electricians and we had no warranty. Not only was the machine no more effective than my last leg but she spilled water. Everywhere. For days. Even after we stopped using it. Which led to a whole 'nother round of controversy in laundry central regarding costs of diagnosing and fixing versus purchasing a total new one. Let's say we fought. And let's say we did that on several occasions, maybe even once standing on the steps of Ceviche. Let's just say that and move on.
In the mean time laundry was NOT GETTING DONE AND SMALL BABIES WERE DYING AS A RESULT. So we finally agreed to a new machine and we finally found one that fit in the small space, given that the damage to the walls had already been done and we had some room to work. To insure that no more babies died, we spent a Saturday at the laundromat. I thought he would be happy. A plethora of machines all lined up to be used at the same time. He was not happy. The laundry King likes to rule his domain and not share or let others see his collection of white undershirts. He was none too pleased - which is entirely my fault and I take full blame for considering a laundromat as his personal slice of heaven. Again I apologize for this particular fight. After laundering the necessaries we returned home and anxiously awaited delivery of our now 3rd machine.
We enjoyed her for several months. She lived with us blissfully unaware that she would be abandoned in April despite Magoo praying and swearing to her nightly. When we looked for homes we made sure there were washer/dryers or at least hook ups and we judged the greatness of a house on whether there was a Magoo Room - you all know it as a laundry room. We found that in this house. An entire space (enough for him to lay a cot in) devoted to the machines. Unfortunately there were no machines. Which meant, yet again, we had to find some. Knowing this history both our parents offered them up as house warming gifts. Which was uber-generous and so welcomed because I could not handle a single more conversation about washing machines. But of course the money for the machine did not mean that the conversation was over, it meant the conversation was just beginning. Hours on end on the Internet researching machines, which meant precious time away from my blogs and such and of course several trips to such fantastic places like LOWES! and HOME DEPOT! Front load, high efficiency, warranties, noise, whether the machine would give you a hand job while feeding you chocolate. We looked into all of this, 17 different times. And discussed it repeatedly. We found ourselves, again, in the aisles of Sears, having another "discussion" about a washing machine. Who knows what we "discussed". Let's just say the salesman knows our views on fighting. We do it in public apparently. After all that was said and done, which was a lot, trust me, we agreed on the purchase of what now becomes our fourth machine, in a mere six months.
You can see our choice below - though careful, it is not for the young or naive, as Magoo counts this as soft core porn....
And that, I can only hope, marks the end of the discussion about such appliances. No more fighting. At least about clean clothes and such machines. Now we can properly devote our energy to other super very important things - like sorting and folding.
Labels: Mr. Magoo
Wow, I must come off as some weird laundry pervert who likes to sniff clean panties rather than dirty ones.
Very well said. I believe that is exactly how most of our laundry crusade played out.
Oh I loved this. So much. Such a good story teller you are!!
Great choice!! Those are the machines I want if I ever (God Forbid) have to replace mine. In blue too. Very nice!!
A man who does the laundry? Be still my heart!!! I say he can have whatever he wants, so long as it gets your laundry done...
i love your new machines!!! very nice and sure to last a life time!!!!
Nice choice. If you find him just standing there, gazing at them, probably best to just walk away and maybe go bond with the fridge (which is my favorite appliance- don't make me say why).
I think one is an official adult when they realize home appliances can make them swoon. Love the ones you picked!
At this point, doing my laundry without the need for quarters would send me over the moon!
Those are beautiful. Dean (my laundry king but not quite so passionate) would one day love for us to actually own a washer and dryer since our apartment doesn't have a hookup. Since he has to go to a whole laundry room I have no idea what goes on there. Great post! Had me cracking up.
Brookem: thanks, just trying to re-tell it as it happened.
Runner Girl: we (and by we I mean him) were less concerned about color - but they were on special at Sears so we went with them.
AM: yup, he cooks too.
acaligurl: oh god i didn't even think about that - they better last forstinkingever
JR: you know I am 10000% with you on that.
brandy: for magoo at least that is the case. though this may be the only "adult" like quality. te he.
bre: it is quite nice and your mention of coin operated machines just sent shivers and chills down magoo's spine - that is his enemy, sworn mortal enemy.
mb: it is best to let them have their space and time!
I'm glad you guys got it worked out. In my last few relationships, I've rarely had fights. It's fun to read about how other relationships work and thrive; my best friends (married to each other) from law school seem to thrive on arguing with each other regularly, but that would make me miserable.
p.s. So I guess I violate your "Believe"):
Ally: I think it is about the personalities. I truly cannot imagine myself in a relationship where there was a peaceful non-bumpy road. But for some that is too much to handle.
Superstar: you rock - that thing is crazy. though even that would not have worked at the condo.