Happy Washing Machines

I hate laundry.

Nothing good comes from dirty clothes.

Last year, we had to buy a new washing machine. I soon discovered the crazy appliance trills an upbeat tune at the end of each cycle.

Seriously.

One day, I was walking past my husband when I heard the tinkling notes drifting from the laundry room. Muttering to myself, I stomped past him, attempting to ignore the newly residential mechanical maniac.

“What?” my husband asked, automatically.

I just glared at him.

Confused, he shrugged. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear what you said.”

A little embarrassed at being caught in my spite, I grudgingly repeated, “No one likes a happy washing machine.”

So, now, not only do I have to endure the trilling notes of success from a smug appliance, I also have to hear my husband chant, “Happy washing machine. Happy washing machine.”

At the end of every…single…cycle.

Nothing good comes from dirty laundry.

Or a supposedly witty husband.

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