When we lived in the mobile home my parents had a pair of late 1960s Westinghouse laundry appliances. They weren’t paired together because the washing machine was in the bathroom and the dryer was in a small laundry alcove in the addition my father built. The alcove was wedged between the master bedroom which had a gun rack and could accommodate a double-bed, and the living room which could accommodate a black and white TV, a fold out couch, and Dad’s chair.
The washing machine was fascinating to me until it flooded over one day and then it made me nervous because the washing machine was no longer reliably doing what it was suppose to do. It was a basic model from Westinghouse, the cycle on the left side of the dial was for warm or cold wash with cold rinse and the right side of the dial was for hot wash with warm rinse. Unlike the photo of the similarly aged washing machine above, the “Cool Down Rinses” imprint was on the left side of the dial, just below “Lock ‘n Spin”. If you tried to lift the lid when the washer was spinning, it would buzz. The washer and dryer made their way to the house across the street until it flooded again; the dryer lived several years longer until it squealed so loud we could hear it down by the road at the other end of the 200’ driveway. Perhaps Dad was cheap.
Living in the desert has not been kind to my skin. My skin dries out quickly and I’m thinking taking a hot shower, which I absolutely adore, accelerates the activity. So I’ve been ending my morning shower by moving the handle from “9 o’clock” to “3 o’clock”, with 6 o’clock being off. The rush of fairly cold water is exhilarating and I thoroughly enjoy the experience.
As part of my typical brain thought processes, I can’t help but think of the late 1960s Westinghouse Washer every morning during my “Cool Down Rinses”.
My husband appreciates it if I don’t flood the bathroom by letting water out of the shower while I’m doing my business. I continue to do what I’m suppose to do./
