The Day My Washing-Machine Went Walkabout

Domestic Appliances I don't have much luck with domestic appliances. My first fridge committed suicide, about a year after I moved into my flat (what we Brits call an apartment). I got up one morning and found it standing a little puddle of its own piss. Apparently you're supposed to defrost them, or something. But for the first couple of years, or so, the washing machine was fine. Just for you non-english guys out there, who might be confused, a washing machine is the thing you use for washing clothes. Don't know what you yanks call it. Washing machine, probably. Now, for reasons which make perfect sense to us - but that I know from personal experience confuse the hell out of you -we tend to have our machine machines in the kitchen. (Not having basements probably has something to do with it). Anyhow, one Sunday morning I had got up, lounged around for a bit, finally slapped the apathy demon about enough to pile a load of clothes into the washing machine, and was sitting on my futon surfing the crap on the cable. My flat had a main room with an archway leading to the kitchen. So, from my position on the futon, the washing machine was to my right and slightly behind me, just visible out of the corner of my eye. I was watching something or other on the box, when I sensed, rather than saw, movement. (You know how it is when you see something on the periphery of you vision). I turned my head, and saw the machine machine. Moving. I'd bought the flat new, and it came with both a fully fitted kitchen, and a washing machine. The washing machine had it's own little enclosure, a nice little wooden box with an open front. It had lived in this little enclosure, apparently happily, for more than two years, but now it seemed that it wanted to see a little of the world. It was moving.

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