Time to Agitate

 

You think I’m talking about Tuesday’s election, don’t you?

I’m sure you would love to hear my personal rant on why you should vote for my candidate, and how you’re a destructive idiot if you vote for the other candidate, but it’s a beautiful Sunday morning, so let’s just skip it, shall we?

Instead, let’s talk about how Samsung is blowing up everything in sight.

Which means I just hit the jackpot.

In case I’ve lost you, Samsung is recalling 34 models of their washing machines because the lids are blowing off and injuring people. That’s right, folks:  first phones, now washing machines.

Yours truly owns one of these washing machine death traps.

And couldn’t be happier.

A year ago, my trusty twenty-year-old Kenmore hit the skids. This thing was dented, ugly, and had absolutely no electronic parts.  It was the Old Faithful of washing machines.

But in a case of don’t-know-what-you’ve-got-till-it’s-gone-itis, I was thrilled to run out and buy a brand spanking new energy efficient washer. It is pristine white and has dozens of settings.  It sings a little song when finished, uses a miniscule amount of water, and can hold more clothing without a pesky agitator in the way.

My mom bought one of these energy efficient machines and hated it. She complained the clothes came out wrinkled, half dry, and not clean.  That it took forever and banged around like it had been hit by mortar fire if you didn’t put the clothes in just right.  She returned the Cadillac of washing machines in favor of a simple, old-style agitating machine.

But what does she know? She’s just afraid of change.

Turns out Mama knows a lot.

My sweaty yoga clothes smelled after washing unless I flooded the machine with extra-strength Tide. I had to load clothes of similar weight and texture or my t-shirts came out tied in knots around my work trousers.  I had to carefully lay the clothing into the machine like I was putting a newborn to bed.  The cycle takes forever.  Loads that used to take 45 minutes now take an hour and twenty.

But I hemmed and hawed, because returning it meant admitting defeat. I didn’t want to thumb my nose at progress.  So I soldiered on for a year, learning the machine’s quirks.  I made peace with it, but never fell in love.  I consoled myself knowing it would never last twenty years like my beloved Kenmore, and that in six or seven years it would break and I could buy a new one.

Then, boom!

Samsung gave me a get-out-of-jail free card. I can hardly wait to get to Lowe’s and pick out the ugliest, simplest, agitating washing machine they’ve got, with Samsung footing the bill.

And this time, I’m taking Mom—and her advice—with me.