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My decades-old washer died, and I needed to buy a new one. I began searching for a no-frills model like the old one; wash, rinse, spin, delicate, etc.; no screens; no high-tech frivolities. It was a challenge. Few washers, if any, in the home improvement store aligned with my simplistic views, but I did the best I could to stay true to my washer wishes.
A week or so later, two guys in an oversized truck arrived at our house. They blew through the back door and into the laundry room like a cyclone. By someone's definition, they deposited and swiftly installed a new washing machine, then dashed out the door faster than Looney Tunes' Road Runner. Barry noticed the washer was not level and called them back to fix it, which they did, lickety-split. Then they skedaddled out the door again.