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kat_lairThe Saga of Mistress Kat and the Washing Machines of Doom. In three Acts.
Warning: May include Too Much Information and Goes On A Bit
Hence the cuts
***
***
Warning: May include Too Much Information and Goes On A Bit
Hence the cuts
Day 1
Me: *gets up, opens curtains* ooh, lookie! Sun! Wind! *ponders* Aha! I Shall Do The Laundry! I shall, I shall *hums a bit*
B/f: *nods encouragingly* This is good, for lo! I am low on clean boxers.
Me: *skips down to the laundry room, loads the machine, presses the button*
WMD1 (Washing Machine of Doom #1): whoooosh! chump-a-chump-a *churns away like a good Mashing Machine* (but it's all lies, people, LIES!)
50 minute interim during which I putter about, do some work, have a tuna sadwich.
Me: Oh yay, clean laundry awaits!
B/f: You really like doing the laundry, don't you? *muttering* you weirdo
Me: Sure, yeah, you betcha! For it is easy, and clean clothes smell good and then I get to dry them outside. Where there is Sun and Wind and Good Smells of Spring.
B/f: oookay then *goes back to taking the IBook apart*
Me: *skips back down to the laundry room*
WMD1: MUAHAHAHAHAA
Me: What Have You Done?
WMD1: Nothing.
Me: Nothing is right. Look at this, all the water is still inside.
WMD1: Didn't feel like draining it, Bitch. Whatcha gonna do about it? Huh?
Me: *wrings hands* Bugger, erm... When first you don't succeed... *repeats the washing programme*
WMD1: whoooosh! chump-a-chump-a churn-churn-churn etc.
another 50 minute interim during which I putter some more but can't really work. The mood is gone.
Me: *crosses fingers, goes back to the laundry room* (no skipping anymore, no siree)
WMD1: MUAHAHAHAHAA
Me: Why, why, why?
WMD1: Felt like it. Or didn't. MUAHAHAHAHAA.
Me: Must save clothes, must... *cuts power, opens the door*
WMD1: *whoosh* *splash* Call for Noah! Ahahaa... TIDAL WAVE!
Me: *soaked from knee to toe* You bastard, I shall never use you again!
WMD1: Like I care. You're wet! Ahahaa!
Me: *hauls sopping wet soapy clothes from WMD1 to WMD2 (Washing Machine of Doom #2)*
Me: Hah. There. *pushes button*
WMD2: pffft
Me: What? What? WHAT? *checks everything, pushes button again*
WMD2: I told you: pffft. Don't wanna do anything.
Me: But, but, but.... You have to! You're a washing machine. And I'm almost out of clean panties for God's sake!
WMD2: Do I look like I care? I'm a washing machine, I don't wear panties.
Me: But I do! Or at least I would like to. And so would other people... Please? *pushes button again*
WMD2: No.
Me: Pretty please?
WMD2: No.
Me: With a cherry on top?
WMD2: Fuck off or I'll explode.
Me: Whimper
Me: *takes sopping wet clothes out and back to the laundry bag* *is forced to leave them behind as they are now too heavy to haul back upstairs*
Upstairs
Me: Whimper #2
B/f: What's wrong?
Me: The fucking washing machines fucked up and again and there will be no clean boxers or panties today!
B/f: oookay *goes back to the IBook*
Me: (balefully) Fine, I'll sort it!
B/f: But you said you liked doing the laundry?
Me: pffft
B/f: *wisely keeps quiet*
Me (on the phone): Hullo, this is blah blah from blah blah the washing machine of doom blah blah FIXIT!
Landlord: okeydokey sure thing, I'll send Scott the Repair Man over asap
Me: asap?
Landlord: weeell... probably be tomorrow
Me: *grinds teeth* ok then
Me: *gets up, opens curtains* ooh, lookie! Sun! Wind! *ponders* Aha! I Shall Do The Laundry! I shall, I shall *hums a bit*
B/f: *nods encouragingly* This is good, for lo! I am low on clean boxers.
Me: *skips down to the laundry room, loads the machine, presses the button*
WMD1 (Washing Machine of Doom #1): whoooosh! chump-a-chump-a *churns away like a good Mashing Machine* (but it's all lies, people, LIES!)
50 minute interim during which I putter about, do some work, have a tuna sadwich.
Me: Oh yay, clean laundry awaits!
B/f: You really like doing the laundry, don't you? *muttering* you weirdo
Me: Sure, yeah, you betcha! For it is easy, and clean clothes smell good and then I get to dry them outside. Where there is Sun and Wind and Good Smells of Spring.
B/f: oookay then *goes back to taking the IBook apart*
Me: *skips back down to the laundry room*
WMD1: MUAHAHAHAHAA
Me: What Have You Done?
WMD1: Nothing.
Me: Nothing is right. Look at this, all the water is still inside.
WMD1: Didn't feel like draining it, Bitch. Whatcha gonna do about it? Huh?
Me: *wrings hands* Bugger, erm... When first you don't succeed... *repeats the washing programme*
WMD1: whoooosh! chump-a-chump-a churn-churn-churn etc.
another 50 minute interim during which I putter some more but can't really work. The mood is gone.
Me: *crosses fingers, goes back to the laundry room* (no skipping anymore, no siree)
WMD1: MUAHAHAHAHAA
Me: Why, why, why?
WMD1: Felt like it. Or didn't. MUAHAHAHAHAA.
Me: Must save clothes, must... *cuts power, opens the door*
WMD1: *whoosh* *splash* Call for Noah! Ahahaa... TIDAL WAVE!
Me: *soaked from knee to toe* You bastard, I shall never use you again!
WMD1: Like I care. You're wet! Ahahaa!
Me: *hauls sopping wet soapy clothes from WMD1 to WMD2 (Washing Machine of Doom #2)*
Me: Hah. There. *pushes button*
WMD2: pffft
Me: What? What? WHAT? *checks everything, pushes button again*
WMD2: I told you: pffft. Don't wanna do anything.
Me: But, but, but.... You have to! You're a washing machine. And I'm almost out of clean panties for God's sake!
WMD2: Do I look like I care? I'm a washing machine, I don't wear panties.
Me: But I do! Or at least I would like to. And so would other people... Please? *pushes button again*
WMD2: No.
Me: Pretty please?
WMD2: No.
Me: With a cherry on top?
WMD2: Fuck off or I'll explode.
Me: Whimper
Me: *takes sopping wet clothes out and back to the laundry bag* *is forced to leave them behind as they are now too heavy to haul back upstairs*
Upstairs
Me: Whimper #2
B/f: What's wrong?
Me: The fucking washing machines fucked up and again and there will be no clean boxers or panties today!
B/f: oookay *goes back to the IBook*
Me: (balefully) Fine, I'll sort it!
B/f: But you said you liked doing the laundry?
Me: pffft
B/f: *wisely keeps quiet*
Me (on the phone): Hullo, this is blah blah from blah blah the washing machine of doom blah blah FIXIT!
Landlord: okeydokey sure thing, I'll send Scott the Repair Man over asap
Me: asap?
Landlord: weeell... probably be tomorrow
Me: *grinds teeth* ok then
***
Day 2
Me: *gets up, opens curtains* well, whadyaknow. Wind! Sun! hmmmm Clouds... Could still do the laundry
B/f: *rummages around the drawer* erm, yes that would be good
Me: *stomps downstairs to the laundry room*
Me: Ah, Good Morning Scott the Washing Machine Repair Man (I love you)
Scott the Repair Man: Mornin' luv. Just fixin' tis 'ere machines.
Me: Great! (yes, I can see that, why else would I love you?)
Two hours later...
knock, knock
Me: *opens door*
Scott the Repair Man: 'em washin' machines are all fixed now miss
Me: Great, thank you.
Scott the Repair Man: tell you what though luv
Me: Yes?
Me (thinking): oh god, I've left my underwear in the machine and he's going to whip them out of his pocket any second now
Scott the Repair Man: yer landlord would do well to buy some new machines, 'em two down there are well old
Me: *nods* Yes, how many times have you fixed them now during the last month?
Scott the Repair Man: *scrathes head* Must be close to four now luv
Me: *sighs*
Scott the Repair Man: *shuffles feet* *looks like he probably did have a little rummage through my dirty laundry*
Me: *gets creeped out and acutely aware of own pantyless status*
Scott the Repair Man: *leers* I'll be off then
Me: *sighs with relief* Bye, bye then. And thanks.
Me: *skips to laundry room once more*
WMD1+2: chump-a-chump-a churnity-churn-churn
Me: *tears own hair* OMG WTF?
WMD1+2: Look at us go! We're busy little Washing Machines, we are!
Me: You were just fixed! How can anyone has had time to appropriate you already!
WMD1+2: (gleefully) chump-a-chump-a churnity-churn-churn
Me: *looks at watch* Well shit.
Me: *points a meaningful finger at WMD1+2* I'll see you tomorrow.
Me: *gets up, opens curtains* well, whadyaknow. Wind! Sun! hmmmm Clouds... Could still do the laundry
B/f: *rummages around the drawer* erm, yes that would be good
Me: *stomps downstairs to the laundry room*
Me: Ah, Good Morning Scott the Washing Machine Repair Man (I love you)
Scott the Repair Man: Mornin' luv. Just fixin' tis 'ere machines.
Me: Great! (yes, I can see that, why else would I love you?)
Two hours later...
knock, knock
Me: *opens door*
Scott the Repair Man: 'em washin' machines are all fixed now miss
Me: Great, thank you.
Scott the Repair Man: tell you what though luv
Me: Yes?
Me (thinking): oh god, I've left my underwear in the machine and he's going to whip them out of his pocket any second now
Scott the Repair Man: yer landlord would do well to buy some new machines, 'em two down there are well old
Me: *nods* Yes, how many times have you fixed them now during the last month?
Scott the Repair Man: *scrathes head* Must be close to four now luv
Me: *sighs*
Scott the Repair Man: *shuffles feet* *looks like he probably did have a little rummage through my dirty laundry*
Me: *gets creeped out and acutely aware of own pantyless status*
Scott the Repair Man: *leers* I'll be off then
Me: *sighs with relief* Bye, bye then. And thanks.
Me: *skips to laundry room once more*
WMD1+2: chump-a-chump-a churnity-churn-churn
Me: *tears own hair* OMG WTF?
WMD1+2: Look at us go! We're busy little Washing Machines, we are!
Me: You were just fixed! How can anyone has had time to appropriate you already!
WMD1+2: (gleefully) chump-a-chump-a churnity-churn-churn
Me: *looks at watch* Well shit.
Me: *points a meaningful finger at WMD1+2* I'll see you tomorrow.
***
Day 3 (today)
Me: *gets up, opens curtains* Ah well.
B/f: Looks like it's going to rain.
Me: *glares* Do you want clean underwear or not?
B/f: *shrugs, pulls on shorts* Don't care, 'm not going anywhere today.
Me: Jesus wept
Me: *cautiously approaches laundry room*
All is silent
Me: Finally, now then...
WMD1+2: Wait! Look at this!
Me: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
The Note On The Wall: "All Machines Out of Order"
WMD1+2: MUAHAHAHAA!!
Me: *falls down on her knees on the cold concrete floor* WHY ME, GOD? WHY ME?
God: *keeps quiet the smug bastard*
WMD1+2: Nanananaa
Me: *sobs*
After about ten minutes I gather myself off the floor and trudge upstairs. In the hall stands the Landlord, fiddling with electronic things he has no training to fiddle with. He's also sporting one of those Bluetooth, mobile ear-pieces that look absolutely ridiculous. I don't think he's seen the latest Dr. Who episode then. The rumour has it he and his perky wife have recently joined the ranks of fundamental Christians, so that's probably a no.
Landlord: Well Hello There!
Me: *dull-eyed and still going commando under the jeans* Erm, hello.
Landlord: *beams*
Me: So about those washing machines...
Landlord: Scott's been to fix them.
Me: Yes, but...
Landlord: Hasn't he?
Me: Yes, like I said, BUT...
Landlord: Are they not ok, then?
Me: *takes a deep breath* yesbutthereisanotethatsaysthe'eroutoforderagain
Landlord: Oh Dear.
Me: *looks on, exhausted and pantyless*
Landlord: I thought I took it away.
Me: *connects dots* So the note is wrong?
Landlord: No. Yes.
Me: What?
Landlord: Well, it was righ last night. Someone said that the electrics had been fiddled with...
Me (thinking): yeah, probably by you in your sleep
Landlord:... so I put that notice on so no one would touch them
Me: But they're ok now?
Landlord: *grins inanely* surely are!
Me: *smiles the first genuine smile in days* WOOT!
Me: *once more skips downstairs to the laundry room*
Me: *glares at WMD1* Not going to risk you, you chunk of scrap metal
WMD1: *glares back*
Me: *givest it a finger*
Me: *loads WMD2, pushes button*
WMD2: chump-a-chump-a-chump-chump
Me: You do love me!
WMD2: Surely do!
50 minute interim during which more tuna sandwiches are consumed
Me: *skips downstairs*
WMD2: chump-a-chump-a churn-kawoosh-churn
Me: eh?
WMD2: still going, come back later
Me: huh? okay...
30 minute interim, work, putter, tv
Me: *goes to check on the situation*
WMD2: churnity churn churn
Me: WTF? Why are you still going?
WMD2: Look at the dial! I AM STUCK. The programme is not progressing.
Me: Son of a whore! Why can't anything work out for me, why?
WMD2: 'cos you're doomed to a knickerless existence till the end of time, you pathetic excuse of a... a...
Me: SHUDUP SHUDUP
Me: Fuck this. *cuts power, reprogrammes the machine, pushes the goddamn button once more*
WMD2: chump-a-chump-a etc.
Me: Now you better work or else
WMD2: We'll see...
Upstairs:
Me: *cries*
B/f: Now what?
Me: the fucking *sob* need to *sniff* WHY ME *whimper* panties!
B/f: There, there *cautiously pats my back* It's not the end of the world.
Me: But I have a meeting with my thesis supervisors tomorrow! *wails* I can't have a meeting with my thesis supervisors without wearing any knickers!
B/f: *sniggers*
Me: It's not funny!
B/f: *chortles* Well, it is a bit funny.
Me: *smacks b/f on the head*
B/f: OW. Okay, but look. It's not like you'll be completely naked or something. You'll have your jeans on. No one will know.
Me: *looms menacingly over b/f* I'LL KNOW!
B/f: Come on, it could be kinda... *gets a dirty glimmer in his eyes* I dunno, kinky?
Me: HAVE YOU SEEN MY SUPERVISORS? Ew, ew, ew. I don't want to be kinky within 5 miles of them.
B/f: Well, okay, but do you want to be kinky with me? *attempts to grope my knickerless bottom*
Me: *splutters* Fuck Off! Can't you see I'm upset? Do you not care? *wails some more*
B/f: For God's sake woman, pull yourself together!
Me: *rocks back and forth in distress*
B/f: Jesus... *returns to his IBook, which, coincidentally, does not need panties*
Me: *sniffs own hair* 1)
The Epilogue:
WMD2 came through on second try. Much rejoicing was had. Along with clean knickers. About which everyone should be grateful. HOORAY!
1) what? my shampoo smells nice. I find it calms me down.
Me: *gets up, opens curtains* Ah well.
B/f: Looks like it's going to rain.
Me: *glares* Do you want clean underwear or not?
B/f: *shrugs, pulls on shorts* Don't care, 'm not going anywhere today.
Me: Jesus wept
Me: *cautiously approaches laundry room*
All is silent
Me: Finally, now then...
WMD1+2: Wait! Look at this!
Me: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
The Note On The Wall: "All Machines Out of Order"
WMD1+2: MUAHAHAHAA!!
Me: *falls down on her knees on the cold concrete floor* WHY ME, GOD? WHY ME?
God: *keeps quiet the smug bastard*
WMD1+2: Nanananaa
Me: *sobs*
After about ten minutes I gather myself off the floor and trudge upstairs. In the hall stands the Landlord, fiddling with electronic things he has no training to fiddle with. He's also sporting one of those Bluetooth, mobile ear-pieces that look absolutely ridiculous. I don't think he's seen the latest Dr. Who episode then. The rumour has it he and his perky wife have recently joined the ranks of fundamental Christians, so that's probably a no.
Landlord: Well Hello There!
Me: *dull-eyed and still going commando under the jeans* Erm, hello.
Landlord: *beams*
Me: So about those washing machines...
Landlord: Scott's been to fix them.
Me: Yes, but...
Landlord: Hasn't he?
Me: Yes, like I said, BUT...
Landlord: Are they not ok, then?
Me: *takes a deep breath* yesbutthereisanotethatsaysthe'eroutoforderagain
Landlord: Oh Dear.
Me: *looks on, exhausted and pantyless*
Landlord: I thought I took it away.
Me: *connects dots* So the note is wrong?
Landlord: No. Yes.
Me: What?
Landlord: Well, it was righ last night. Someone said that the electrics had been fiddled with...
Me (thinking): yeah, probably by you in your sleep
Landlord:... so I put that notice on so no one would touch them
Me: But they're ok now?
Landlord: *grins inanely* surely are!
Me: *smiles the first genuine smile in days* WOOT!
Me: *once more skips downstairs to the laundry room*
Me: *glares at WMD1* Not going to risk you, you chunk of scrap metal
WMD1: *glares back*
Me: *givest it a finger*
Me: *loads WMD2, pushes button*
WMD2: chump-a-chump-a-chump-chump
Me: You do love me!
WMD2: Surely do!
50 minute interim during which more tuna sandwiches are consumed
Me: *skips downstairs*
WMD2: chump-a-chump-a churn-kawoosh-churn
Me: eh?
WMD2: still going, come back later
Me: huh? okay...
30 minute interim, work, putter, tv
Me: *goes to check on the situation*
WMD2: churnity churn churn
Me: WTF? Why are you still going?
WMD2: Look at the dial! I AM STUCK. The programme is not progressing.
Me: Son of a whore! Why can't anything work out for me, why?
WMD2: 'cos you're doomed to a knickerless existence till the end of time, you pathetic excuse of a... a...
Me: SHUDUP SHUDUP
Me: Fuck this. *cuts power, reprogrammes the machine, pushes the goddamn button once more*
WMD2: chump-a-chump-a etc.
Me: Now you better work or else
WMD2: We'll see...
Upstairs:
Me: *cries*
B/f: Now what?
Me: the fucking *sob* need to *sniff* WHY ME *whimper* panties!
B/f: There, there *cautiously pats my back* It's not the end of the world.
Me: But I have a meeting with my thesis supervisors tomorrow! *wails* I can't have a meeting with my thesis supervisors without wearing any knickers!
B/f: *sniggers*
Me: It's not funny!
B/f: *chortles* Well, it is a bit funny.
Me: *smacks b/f on the head*
B/f: OW. Okay, but look. It's not like you'll be completely naked or something. You'll have your jeans on. No one will know.
Me: *looms menacingly over b/f* I'LL KNOW!
B/f: Come on, it could be kinda... *gets a dirty glimmer in his eyes* I dunno, kinky?
Me: HAVE YOU SEEN MY SUPERVISORS? Ew, ew, ew. I don't want to be kinky within 5 miles of them.
B/f: Well, okay, but do you want to be kinky with me? *attempts to grope my knickerless bottom*
Me: *splutters* Fuck Off! Can't you see I'm upset? Do you not care? *wails some more*
B/f: For God's sake woman, pull yourself together!
Me: *rocks back and forth in distress*
B/f: Jesus... *returns to his IBook, which, coincidentally, does not need panties*
Me: *sniffs own hair* 1)
The Epilogue:
WMD2 came through on second try. Much rejoicing was had. Along with clean knickers. About which everyone should be grateful. HOORAY!
1) what? my shampoo smells nice. I find it calms me down.