Airing My Dirty Laundry

When I bought my condo a year ago, I was so excited that it had “washer/dryer hook-ups”! Gone would be the days of carting my skivvies down the elevator or stairs to the creepy basement or moist laundry room full of half-assed washing machines and mediocre dryers.

After I moved in, I discovered that my laundry room (aka closet) was merely plumbed. It didn’t have any electricity. Or a vent.

Hmmm.

Clearly I wasn’t paying attention during the inspection.

So for the past 11 months, I’ve been carrying my laundry out my back door and down three flights of stairs to the basement, where generally I don’t have an issue with the machines being in use. But in the winter, it’s really annoying to have to bundle up and tromp down icy stairs with snow blowing in my face, just because I don’t have one more pair of underwear to last me even one more day.

But I guess you can look at it as a workout — I go up and down the stairs at least six times in the course of doing laundry.

The plan all along has been to finish the needed work and get a washer/dryer in my place. So a couple weeks ago I had someone from “Mr. Handyman” give me an estimate. The guy was a little over the top in terms of being chatty and flirty, but he was helpful in the end, and we decided that it would be best to tap into the gas line behind the stove in the kitchen, run the pipe behind the cabinet, through the wall into the bathroom, along the tub (inside the hollow space), and finally through the wall into the closet. Then he’d put in a vent and tap into a 110 wire so I could have an outlet for the washer.

Two days later his supervisor called to give me the price. $3,000!

Woe is me. I have no boyfriend who can take this on. I am all alone. I have to tromp up and down the stairs and might kill myself in the process by slipping on the ice. Then rats will eat my dead body in the alley.

(And yes, this is a shameless plea for Dad or Brother DIY to come visit before farming season starts to help out their poor little girl.)

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