Girl Talk - Column

This is a song to all the washing machines I've loved before. Who, Julio Igelesias-style, have travelled in and out my door. I'm glad they came along, washed some whites and were gone ... yes, to all the washing machines I've loved before ...
Sometimes in life, the big things are best defined and remembered by the smallest things. Lately, I've had my heart broken and my dreams dashed but despite all that it is the fact that I have no clean undies to wear tomorrow that is really bothering me the most.
We all make the mistake of throwing our heart into the wild ring of love and few of us come out the other side without a few cuts and scrapes. But how many of us are stupid enough to find ourselves completely and utterly without appliances as a result?
Late last year, after a long and bravely fought battle (on both sides) to make it work with my lovely Copper, the dream finally died and he left, taking his washing machine with him.
This shouldn't have presented a problem, except for the fact that, after a disastrous marriage breakup a few years back left me sans appliances along with any hope for the future, I vowed never again to be caught short and invested my meagre life savings in the best of everything Briscoes and Noel Leeming had to offer.
But just because something appears to be perfectly suitable doesn't mean it's going to slot into your life and stay there. The best looking models on the shop floor can often have the shortest shelf life.
Between then and now I have moved on literally and figuratively and the home I own simply won't fit the washing machine I splashed out on after my divorce.
So for a number of weeks I found myself sitting at lonely laundromats wishing I could only put my own troubles and turmoil through a quick rinse cycle and have them come out clean and fresh, just like my sheets.
Rather more quickly than was perhaps appropriate, I found myself in a position where another washing machine was made available to me.
Also rather more quickly than was advisable, I accepted this kind offer and swapped my oversized machine for one that slotted quickly and neatly into my life and, at least at first, appeared to be the perfect fit.
But it didn't take long to realise that even after a spin on the heavy duty cycle, things just kept coming out soiled.
At first the machine just couldn't seem to handle a balanced load. Stains that had been thoroughly bleached refused to be budged. Eventually (and perhaps understandably, considering its age) it crapped out halfway through a cycle, leaving my knickers in a twist and a dirty stain right across my heart.
Worse, I was left without any sort of manpower to shift the failed appliance from its tidy slot and out the back door into the trash where it belonged.
In the meantime, some other girl's dirty laundry was being put through my own machine and I was livid.
What if she didn't separate her whites from her coloureds?
Frankly, while my love life was a small mess, my domestic arrangements had become a total disaster.
To put my own (quick rinse) spin on a favourite Oscar Wilde quote, to lose one washing machine may be regarded as misfortune. But tolose two (and in as many months) looks like carelessness.
So now, with a giant hole in my heart and in my laundry room, I am after only one thing: a washing machine that isn't necessarily fancy or even fast and big, but is reliable, finishes the load and doesn't leave things looking dirty in the pale light of day.
Is that really so much for a girl to ask?