Honey, Did You Walk the Washing Machine Today?

What in the world is it about having testicles that prevents a man from loading a washing machine evenly so that it doesn't walk across the floor during the spin cycle?

The Boy has this horrible habit of putting only a few things in the washer - usually heavy items like those god-awful coveralls he wears at work and gets grease all over them but still brings them home to be properly laundered because he says the laundry service doesn't actually wash them, only cleans them - and then wanders off somewhere. He's long gone, and I'm curled up on the couch, all cozy with a blankie and a laptop and the cell phone and the cordless phone and a dog on either side of me and one buried in the blanket somewhere, and then I hear "ka-thunka-ka-ka, ka-thunka-ka-ka, ka-thunka-ka-ka" and I can hear my poor little Kenmore washer just kathunking apart! By the time I unravel myself from the tangle of dogs, blankets, and wireless technology items, the washer has managed to move 2 inches to the right and forward about 8.

How hard can it be? One pair on one side, the other pair on the other! Or, how about this novel idea: WASH A FULL LOAD!

When I was still married *shivers*, my ex-husband would do the same thing with a few pairs of jeans, or one comforter, or 3 bath towels. The only problem there was that when the washer decided to 'walk' across the floor, it would take huge steps at one time. By the time you figured out what was going on, it had wedged itself up against the laundry room door, preventing you from opening it. The washer fit it its little area so tightly that it was almost impossible to push it back into the correct spot just by applying force against the door.

Luckily, I was skinny enough that we could push the washer back just enough - even if it wedged itself in there crooked - that I could squeeze in and re-adjust everything.

My biggest fear was that he would do that on his way out one day, and I'd come home from school (i was a college student then) and find the condo flooded with an angry downstairs neighbor waiting at the foot of our stairs, because the damned thing would walk so far away without intervention that it would pull the hose out of the wall.

I wish that his biggest mistake had been flooding the apartment, rather than practically ruining my life...Fucking jackass.

Needless to say, every time The Boy does something like that, it sends me into a panic, and I simply cannot relax until the entire wash cycle is completed. Mind you, I've gone in there, redistributed the load in question, repositioned the washer, and waited in the laundry room for the cycle to resume to see if I needed to do it all over again. But I still have that weird phobia about watching that washer walk right out my laundry room door, and into my hallway while I just sit on the couch, unable to get up because of the big, heavy deaf dog that won't move just because you're squirming a lot.

That's all. I have no witty closure today. Sorry.

(of course, saying 'today' implies that i do indeed have witty closures on other days. but we know i do not. but i'm also not going to edit it. sorry.)