After wiping up the last couple of puddles, I wanted to throw the mop into the bucket, but I couldn't summon the energy. My arms ached, and my temper was foul as I cast a murderous glance at the washing machine. It sat there, bright red lights glaring at me like small beady eyes, as if to say, "Serves you right," while the round glass door matched the expression of someone who had pissed
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