laundry

I was in the home of a close friend's parents, attempting to do a load of washing. Their laundry was a step down from the rest of the house, adjoining the main living space where the parents were sitting, watching television. They appeared to be either drunk or in a bad mood; they were somewhat cranky and careless with their words and actions. I closed the laundry door and loaded the clothes into the front loader washing machine. Instead of a simple door, the washing machine had three separate doors to shut: the first a rubber flap, the second a plastic sliding door, and the third a lockable swing door. I closed all three and started the machine. Regardless of the care taken to close all of the doors, water poured out of the machine and flooded the laundry, ankle-deep in no time at all. I rushed to the the far end of the room and could see two drain pipes built into the cement floor. I stopped the machine and waded through the water, creating a drag toward the drains so the water would empty quickly. I was grateful that the laundry was lower than the rest of the house so that the water would not flood the living room as well. Once the water was gone, I opened the laundry door and called to my friend's mother, asking for her help with the washing machine. She simply grunted and continued to watch the television. My friend came into the room and offered his help. I could not help but notice the remarkable difference in their attitudes: he was open and warm, they were cold and indifferent.