...delivery fail.

I moved into a house with the world’s narrowest stairway leading to my basement. It has already caused me to send one, wonderfully option-filled LG washer and dryer set back. As a result, my dad measured the stairway and I went on my merry way to find a front-loading washer that would fit and wash more than two socks and a t-shirt. I thought I found them until the delivery guys showed up.

Delivery guy (after getting the dryer downstairs): “I don’t think [the washer’s] going to fit.”

Me: “Are you kidding me!? Mother ‘ucker.” (Yes, I said “ ‘ucker” – that’s what happens with my shi- gets ‘ucked with.)

I promptly call my mother. (Shocker.)

Mom: Hello?

Me: I’m going to fucking kill him.

Mom: Who? The delivery guy?

Me: No, my father.

Mom: Why? What happened?

Me: The washer doesn’t fit down the fucking stairs. It’s wider than 24.5”.

Mom: You’re kidding me.

At this point I had to hang up and deal with the delivery men, who suggested that I'd have to remove the drywall in the stairwell. They ultimately left the washing maching in my dining room. Right in the middle of everything.

Note – I would never wish any harm to father. Hell, we argue over who will carry my bags because I don't want him to exert himself.  I may be a bitch, but I'm no Lizzie Borden.

Cut to two days later when my father and I are trying to figure out how to get the washer in the basement, where it belonged.

Dad: Which way did they take the dryer down? Front first? Or side first?

Me: Umm…I think side first, but I’m not sure. Why?

Dad: Because the washer is only 23 ½” wide, so is the dryer …and the stairway is wider than that. They took it down the wrong way, no wonder they had trouble.

Lazy, lying delivery fuckers! I want my tip back.

In the end, my Dad and I got the washer down to the basement with minimal destruction to any property and I got my front-loading washer hooked up. Once again, Dad comes through.

What did I learn? Delivery men are liars and take advantage of single women.