I HATE my washing machine. HATE IT. DETEST IT.
I bought it in October of 2006. I was not happy that the old one was broken (it came with the house and who knows how old it was) but I was excited at the prospect of getting a front-loading machine. The washer/dryer are up on a bit of a concrete platform, and it was annoying to have to stand on my tiptoes on the edge of the platform to reach into the old top-loading machine.
Since the doorway is not particularly wide, I could only purchase a pretty small “compact” model – but it’s only me and the cats, so I thought it would suit my purposes fine.
I hate this washing machine. If I’d been smart, I’d have just returned it after the first time I used it, seeing how horrible it was. Tonight was fairly typical.
I’ve wanted permanent eyeliner for some time. I’ve been thinking about it seriously (seriously enough to research local artists, etc.) for months – and considering it much longer than that. I’m the type that, without eyeliner, has a face that appears to be a nose, mouth – and nothing else. No eyelashes to speak of, and small eyes. If my eyes are the windows to my soul – I don’t have much of a soul.
I took the plunge Saturday – made the appointment last week with a reputable artist and got permanent eyeliner – upper and lower eyelids. For those unfamiliar with permanent cosmetics, effectively, it’s a tattoo. So, I got a tattoo of eyeliner on my eyelids. I used an artist that only does permanent cosmetics, but I’m in a room across the hall from a burly bald biker dude getting who-knows-what big intimidating tattoo.