A washer/dryer tale...

*Ta-da-da di-di da-da...*

Die Forelle (The Trout) by Franz Schubert was playing in the bathroom to let her know the washer had finished cleaning it's first load of laundry.

Here is a little context :

It had been four years since she had started that new life all by herself, in a new country. She had finished her bachelor's a year ago and had started working, making her own money... It was great. Her first apartment was really nice, she had started everything there, she had grown there, but it was really expensive. She would have to move if she wanted to put her salary in something else than just rent. She found a new place, a bit smaller, basement level but really cute, with natural light. There was a lot of potential to turn this place into her Pintagram-perfect apartment (short for Pinterest and Instagram, but I'm sure you got it haha). Most importantly, it was definitely affordable. Also, there were washer and dryer entries so she would finally be able to do her laundry at her place. Exciting!

Since she had moved there, in September, she had been looking for an affordable but good washer and dryer set. It was all so expensive, she couldn't afford it! Nothing was really going that well since she had lost her second job two months ago, was high-key depressing and reconsidering every choice she had ever made while discovering most of her personality traits were trauma responses... but that's for another story. The moving and settling part was not going so well either. The plan was to have the perfect house (or close to perfect) for the New Year. We were halfway through December and it was still looking like day one.

So what was the deal with the washer and dryer?

It had been delivered at her place last week and had been installed by the plumber yesterday. This morning, after loading a full laundry basket, she was sitting in front of her washer, watching the first cycle. Since she was a kid it was something she would do while thinking. The clothes rolled around, sometimes a bit of foam (she LOVED foam), and the purring of the brand new machine was somehow soothing to her.

"That's a great machine", she thought. Then it hit her. She had bought it. By herself. For her own apartment.

She had always had that independent spirit that would make her dream about moving abroad and start her own new life, by herself, but she realized that somewhere deep in her heart it was set that buying a washer and dryer set was another level of adulting. "It would last a good ten to fifteen years'' she thought, almost out loud. Unconsciously she had always assumed she would have made that purchase for her first home. Where she would move with her husband, the love of her life. She couldn't figure if it was coming from movies or her own childhood, but that "brand new big electronics that will last a decade for us and our children'' feeling was really there. For a second, she felt like a single mom. As if now she would have to introduce her "babies", from her previous single and independent life, to the new man who would be part of her new life, their new life.

He would not get the chance to choose another set. Those machines had a story. Brand new high end and high quality machines, normally expensive, but they had been slightly scratched when delivered to the store and had to be discounted. The scratches were not even really noticeable, the machines were perfectly working and the discount was great! She had even got free stuff with her purchase. It was an amazing deal, they were really fancy, never-used, beautiful machines. The kind you buy when you settle for life. With the person you love and move in with. When everything in your life is as beautiful as the shiny dark grey color of the high end electronics you buy (or get, as wedding gifts) for the beautiful new spaces of your new home.

Was it cliché? Definitely. Even she was cringing, when she bluntly realized how princessy that picture was. But she also felt that light pang of sadness, because well, she had dreamed about this, about that feeling, it was one of her younger self's fantasies, and she knew she would never get to have it like that. Could she? She was a 22 years old young woman, cute and smart, but love had not been in her favor lately, or ever. Recently single after a two-year long relationship, she was reconsidering every love-related decision and loss ever experienced, reopening past wounds that she thought were healed and realizing what she hoped and what she made for herself were not the same realities. Yeah, she had got all that from a washing machine. She had always been an overthinker.

She sighed. "I have to continue tidying up since I have the energy".

And then her thoughts were wandering again as she began to wonder, amongst other things, if her younger self would have been proud of what she had made of herself, while she started humming the cute end of cycle melody, Die Forelle, by Franz Schubert.

Ta-da-da di-di da-da...