My bro and I were hysterical thinking about this yesterday...
Growing up, we weren't allowed to have a washer/dryer in our apartment. But we got one anyway. Problem was when something in our apartment needed fixing and maintenance had to come over, we had to somehow hide it. So, mom would wheel the combo in front of our couch, throw a cloth over them, and pretend it was a coffee table, never mind that this coffee table was well higher than the sofa, so high, that you woulda had to crane your neck to watch the TV.
The maintenance guys never said anything, not cause they didn't notice, I mean, how couldn't they?* I'm sure it was more cause like everyone, they prolly hated their bosses, so by letting us stick it to them, so were they. Besides, we didn't tell when they smelled like alcohol.
harris
* I woulda loved to have heard, "Ma'am, I think your coffee table has just entered the spin cycle."
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