One thing about the new washing machine taking a while to come in (still no word on a new delivery/pickup date!) is that moving the old machine kept getting delayed.
Yesterday, my younger daughter wrestled it out of the house, and we “walked” it over to the junk pile.
Unfortunately, it was impossible to completely drain the washer when it broke down, and what was left in there stunk to high heaven! Ick. When we got it near the old stove, we took the lid off, then turned it upside down to drain as much as we could. Even then, we could still hear sloshing as we righted it.
While it was upside down, we had a chance to take a look.
Aside from the oil leak, I was actually surprised by how clean and new it looked under there. The exterior belied the interior!
We also found where those screws came from.
The entire bottom of the washer was rusted out. This metal bar was completely loose, having been held by only those two screws we’d found.
When this machine was in the basement, it had been on a pallet to keep it off the wet. Clearly, the wet still managed to reach the bottom of the washing machine!
I recently had a conversation with my mother about the laundry being upstairs now, instead of downstairs. She had been asking me if this was still around, and was that still around; she still seems to think the house should have stayed exactly the way she left it. She’d commented about my brother moving the washer and dryer upstairs, so we couldn’t have to go into the basement to do laundry. Of course, my response was to extol the virtues of my brother, and gratitude for him doing that. It was a HUGE job to get the electrical set up for the drier, even with my younger daughter being there to help. That was harder than moving the machines, themselves. My mother responded with how my brother was more concerned about making things “easy” than about how things looked. One of the things she’d been asking about is what happened to a mirror she’d had hanging in the entryway. I don’t remember it, and it was already gone before we moved here. When the addition had been built, my dad had a sink installed in the entryway, so we could wash up after coming back from the barn or whatever. My mother hated having a sink there, so when they retired from farming, she had the sink covered to be a sort of counter, and added plants and other stuff. She was much more concerned about how things looked. Well, at least on the surface. She then went on about how wonderful she had made it look, and how it was so nice, that when the carolers came to sing and were invited inside after, they said they didn’t want to leave the entry, it was so nice in there.
I was a caroler one year, so I know what really would have happened. Before every house we stopped at, we had to decide whether or not to accept invitations, usually to partake in alcohol, once inside. My parents were among those who would offer a glass of wine. Or vodka. Whichever. 😉
With some homes, we were never given a choice! *L* By the end of it, we were really singing. 😀
My brother had wondered why our parents hadn’t moved the washer and dryer upstairs years ago, so they wouldn’t have to struggle up and down those stairs as their mobility decreased.
Now I know why.