I am happy that our trials amused the impartial observer. It provided some comfort.
Today The Technician arrived, proudly be-overalled with M badges adorning his blue attire. Blue was how we felt too. He spent over four hours with us, trying to coax our M to follow the programme. There were cables attached, lights flashing, laptops whirring and lots of trial runs. At the end of which he pronounced the machine ‘unstable’.
That, I suspect,was exactly how the mistress of the house felt. The Technician departed assuring us that his boss, Mr. F would call us pronto. Our options seem to be:
M3. I never liked the M3.
A different, simpler version of M. if one is still on the market.
This last idea introduces the frightening prospect of us having to put the detergent into the machine ourselves. I am not sure we are up to that. And of course when I say ‘we’ I must confess that I am not planning on any personal involvement. It sounds far too challenging for me.
So the mistress of the house has left me alone. She has gone out to get a late lunch and look at washing machines.
My task for the day is to top up the oil in her car. And just to remind me of that she has driven off in my car. I would happily do this simple chore if I knew where she had hidden the oil. I do wonder whether M2 has a hand in it. Not content with developing a programmed mind of his own he has also starting exerting a kinetic force over our possessions. I suspect that M2 is possessed by a Poltergeist. If I see things hurtling across the room tonight, smashing into the walls and windows, I shall be sure it can be only one of two things:
M2 is wielding his evil influence or the mistress of the house is back.
The more I think about this the more convinced I am that this mirrors a Dennis Wheatley novel. If M don’t sort us out soon I think we may be sacrificing one of their employees on a washing machine at midnight. I’ll have to read the handbook to see if there is anything in the instruction manual about that.
To be continued.