I liked 'em all, but if you parked me in front of one with a window in the door, I'd stay happily ensconced through the entire cycle. (Now that I think of it, maybe it was a mild form of autism. Whatever the allure, it's long gone now.)
Sometime in my mid 20s, I reminded my mother of the fetish. We had a good laugh, and I thought that was that. But a few weeks later, she mentioned that she had a birthday present for me. When I failed to claim it promptly, she pressed: "When are you going to come get your present?"
So I schlepped out there to unwrap -- surprise! -- a toy washer. It was very small, and when you wound a knob, plastic "laundry" tumbled around inside. Cute.
As I got ready to leave, Mom said, "Don't forget your present."
"What am I supposed to do with it?"
"Well, what am I supposed to do with it?"
"Why don't you give it to your grandson and make him gay, too," I suggested.
"Just kidding," I said.
At least I didn't take things this far.
Link from Kristine.