I regularly conduct special operations to get rid of the old barrel. In strict secrecy, otherwise misery. My husband, an adult boy, is hysterical. Every stitched socks, every stitched shoe they are gently loved and will still be useful. For the sake of Barakhla, he easily changes his principles. One of them says: first buy new, then throw away the old. I could not break up with my old washing machine for a week. Let it stand in the corner, it doesn’t bother anyone. Suddenly it will be useful! I watched out the window who would take her. I’m afraid I’d kick off an unworthy candidate. But the washing machine safely disappeared under the cover of the night. Aaaah aaaah!