Okay, so yeah I don't do laundry.  I despise washing clothes, despite knowing they need to be done.  Washing clothes ranks up there in my I don't do list with cleaning that scum that crawls beneath the toilet that looks like bits of curdled paper someone blew their nose on and forgot to throw out... ewwwwwwwww!

Thank God my husband doesn't mind chores.  He washes the clothes, and it's a good thing or we'd soon be called the naked family.  Not that Pickleboy would mind, he's three and being naked as a jail bird seems comforting and normal to him most of the time.

But today, this time I put the clothes into the washing machine.

I was sitting in the living room on my laptop, blogging of course and DH was outside doing some work when all of a sudden the washing machine got angry.  I mean seriously it got mad.  It started growling, shaking uncontrollably and my heart jumped through my throat.

I thought the washing machine was possessed and was going to come after me like you see in those cheesy comedy movies, only it was not funny at this particular time.  I immediately started screaming for my husband.  He ran inside and I pointed.

"It's mad!"  I shouted.  "It's mad!"

He burst out laughing at me and I wrinkled my brow.  This was not funny.  The damn thing was going to come after me and slice me to bits.  Like in Stephen Kings maximum overdrive I was expecting the microwave, toaster and electric knife mom bought us for Christmas to follow suit.

Woman lays slain in living room while blogging when household appliances beat her to death in a gang brawl due to neglect and wear and tear she caused them over the years...

"It's tilting."  DH said.

"It's what?"  I blinked.

"Tilting," he laughed again. 

Okay I had no idea what he was talking about, my heart still pounding and my imagination running circles around me.  He took me into the laundry room to show me.

Apparently if you have too many clothes in the bin and they move onto one side the washing machine will tilt and begin to shake uncontrollably.  Thus - get angry.

DH opened the bin and moved some of the clothes around and turned the machine back on.  Then he grinned at me.  "See all fixed!"

I stared at him.  Then I stared at the washing machine.  Then I stared back at DH.  Then I hauled off and punched him in the arm.

"What the hell did you do that for?"  He shouted.

"This is why I don't do laundry!"