the lay of the laundry

Last Saturday we scored some sweet deals at a local city-wide garage sale, but I think the front loading washing machine will go down in the record books.

We thought we'd hit one last sale before leaving town, but as we meandered up the driveway the people having the sale began to box things up (good sign #1). I cut my finger looking through a box of picture frames, snagged a few vintage shoelaces, and dug a tall green mug out of the free box. Then Brett came up to me and pointed out a washing machine that I had barely even noticed, with a masking tape price tag that said $50. “What if we offer them $25?” Brett said under his breath (good sign #2).

I considered the idea. I'd always wanted a decent front loader. My machine at home worked perfect, I'd underpaid for it, so I could probably sell it for at least $50 and come out on top. What did we have to lose? (The Kicker: Nothing.)

the reason they practically gave it away

We drove home a few minutes later with our new maid/entertainment. We plugged it in and realized the door latch (striker) was broken, but Brett quickly ordered a replacement part for $7.50 + shipping. The piece came five days later, and we sat down to watch our steal of a deal in action.

I love my low-cost life. Wasting money/energy drives me nuts, superfluity baffles the heck out of me, dryer lint is dumb, technology tends to confuse me, the sun's rays and oxygen delight me, low utility bills mean more money for books, Laura Ingalls did it, there is so much gosh-darn S P A C E in this house for clotheslines when it rains, and the smell of summer breezes is basically heaven. Go jump in your piles of steamy, industrially-dried clothes; I'll take the sweet scent of fresh cut grass, backyard bonfires, juicy garden strawberries, and bare feet.