FOOD & ENTERTAINMENT
Rage against the washing machine
NO BOOK W !
By Stuart McCullough Most appliances are harmless. A toaster would gladly be your best friend given the chance. In fact, if you were to unexpectedly become a hobo at short notice and set off on a cross continental journey carrying nothing but a swag and a water bottle, a toaster would happily trail behind and keep you company the entire way. Or it would, at least, if it had legs. A food processor can’t do enough for you. It’s practically falling over itself just to help out. Televisions are just like windows but better. Kettles hold the unique distinction of being the most yin and yang of all appliances in that they boil water and yet simultaneously soothe the soul. But there is one household white good that should not be trusted. When it comes to this particular piece of domestic hardware, never let it near the steak knives and avoid turning your back on it at all costs. It’s mean and angry and will never be your friend. I speak, of course, of the washing machine. It’s the Incredible Hulk of appliances. It sits there, all harmless and inert until forced to do its job at which point it becomes unspeakably angry. It starts slowly with little more than a gentle whir; like a merry go-round for your clothes. But before you know it, the whole contraption works itself up into a writhing, foot-stomping tizz that falls just short of a somersault as it goes flat-out berserk. It’s as though it’s throwing a spectacular tantrum that would surely earn it a spell in time out were it not for the fact that
it was already in the least attractive room in the house. It’s as though it’s trying to have its way and is eternally annoyed at the fact that it has to wash dirty clothes whilst other appliances get all the glamour jobs. At Tyabb, the washing machine was bigger than the first car I owned. It also had a greater top speed. Given that it had to deal with the dirty
clothes of seven people, it had a lot to be angry about. The laundry was (and still is) just near the dining room table and it was not unusual for us to be working our way through a plate of meat and three vege only to be interrupted by a sound that resembled Dorothy’s Tin Man stuck on ‘The Gravitron’ and trying to squash a mouse. When it got really worked up,
it made a shrieking sound reminiscent of the shower scene from Psycho. Plates would tremble and peas would leap from forks in search of safety as an avalanche of sound that gave the impression that hell’s own portal had just been prised open filled the house. To hear it, you’d think it was the apocalypse rather than just the spin cycle. More than just wail and scream, our machine made frequent attempts to escape. It never succeeded. It must be said that it’s not easy getting over the razor wire and past the guard dogs when you’re chock-full to the brim with school uniforms and PE gear. Not that our machine didn’t give it a pretty good try. It was a common occurrence to find that it had broken loose from its moorings and was pressed up against the door. Sadly, though it travelled the length of the laundry, it never went any further. It’s the curse of not having hands, I guess. The poor thing was probably hoping for the day one of us accidently left the door open and it could, once and for all, makes it break for freedom. Maybe that’s the problem. Perhaps washing machines don’t have severe anger management issues so much as they simply long to be free. It doesn’t seem too much to hope for. Besides, they’re always in the worst spot in the house. Sometimes, they don’t even get a room to themselves. I once lived in an apartment that had a so-called ‘European laundry’. As it turns out, ‘European laundry’ is an especially fancy way of saying ‘cupboard’. Or,
to those of you who’ve ever rented in the metropolitan area, a ‘studio apartment for an affordable budget’. For decades, humankind has contemplated what the world might be like if apes were to rise up and conquer human civilisation as we know it. It’s a question first posed by Pierre Boulle’s novel, ‘La Planete des Singes’, which was later turned into the movie ‘Flashdance’. But the same book was also the basis for the film starring Charlton Heston, ‘The Planet of the Apes’. To this day, it’s a theme that continues to fascinate people. But the real question is this: who’s to say that monkeys pose the biggest risk? Unless you’re Michael Jackson (and, let’s face it, who is?) primates don’t live inside your house. Apes don’t know you so well that they’re intimate with all your dirty laundry. Washing machines, on the other hand... If you think about it, the threat is clear – washing machines are preparing to attack. The day when both front and top loaders alike rise up against their human captors cannot be far away. That’s why we need to get in first. People get hysterical about free-range eggs, never realising they’re holding someone hostage. The time is now. I say we should set our washing machines free. To let them throw off the yoke of servitude so they can roam in packs over the open plains. It’s a delicate matter, but these machines have a cycle for ‘delicates’. Go, dear machine; go and be free. stuart@stuartmccullough.com
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Southern Peninsula News 29 July 2014
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