Ok… exaggeration. However, once I lived in a blessed land of spin cycles, in a land where piles of warm laundry fall around you like hugs, in a land where I used to actually COMPLAIN (?????) about so called ‘Laundry Duty’. For the last 10 months I have lived in the land of back-straining, skin-removing, break-a-sweat-over-scalding-water hand washing. But not anymore. Behold:
Look at her. My Riga-8, the old soviet solution to dirty clothes. Peace Corps Volunteers refer to these as ‘agitators’ instead of ‘washing machines’, still skeptical of what that little whirpool of mirky water can accomplish. The stars aligned for some volunteers who ended up in host families with standard Western washing machines. Similar stars shine on many of my Armenian friends (with good jobs) who now have great washing machines. However, my stars, it seems, desire my hands with a few less layers of skin. After handwashing for so many months, I was more than happy to purchase this rusty little bueat. Sure, I have to pour in water by hand. Sure, I still have to hand-wring my jeans and sweaters and all. Sure, my Riga-8 is a Wall-E in a world of Eve’s, but when your puppy pees on you after the very first nap on your lap, you rejoice that you will not have to hand scrub urine stains for the rest of your days.
Also, I will draw your attention to what many many outsiders have pointed out after visiting this area: the very popular Iranian brand of washing detergent. I said in the last post how much I’m learning to love Iranians. I love them also for this: