Ode to the laundry machine. That tumbling beast. That water container with a motor. That rigid ridged dirt ridder.
I’ve lived without you at one point. I washed my clothes on a concrete slab for two years. I bloodied my knuckles on the slab, scraping back and forth.
By comparison, tossing clothing in, moving it from a wetting box to drying box, etc. doesn’t seem all that bad. It’s actually quite wonderful.
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Bryan lives somewhere at the intersection of faith, fatherhood, and futurism and writes about tech, books, Christianity, gratitude, and whatever’s on his mind. If you liked reading, perhaps you’ll also like subscribing: