Older washing machines weigh a metric fuckload. A wet metric fuckload. First, just getting it turned on the landing was a challenge. Then we decided that I should be the one pulling it up the stairs, but darkwolfie was already there, so he climbed down and I climbed up. But the wheels of the dolly were stuck under the step, so we had to use a lever to get it up and over the edge of the stair. It slipped once, and went down three steps and hit darkwolfie, scaring the daylights out of me, but he was okay.
Then we got it up to the top step, but there was something behind the door out, and I couldn't open it enough to get the washer past the doorknob. So we dropped it a step, and I realized that darkwolfie's tripod had slipped out of the storage room and was blocking the door. I couldn't reach it, though, so I left him holding the weight of the washer and ran in the kitchen, where I grabbed a ladle to pull it towards me to where I could grab it. Then with the door open, we pushed the washer up into the teensy foyer, where darkwolfie clambered out from behind it and helped me guide it down the outside steps.
We took a break after all that, and girded our loins for the return trip with Mom's washer. That turned out to be much easier -- it had to be at least 100 pounds lighter than the beast we hauled out of the cellar. Which is as may be; I'm still never moving a washer again, not if I can help it. The new washer went down easily, though it had to be lifted off the bottom step and over the landing.
The dolly needed to be returned to my dad, so we decided, rather than call it good, we'd drive up there and return the dolly, then back to Home Depot for new hoses. While we were there, we found a couple of melamine base cabinets and a bench top that we're going to get for a laundry center in the cellar, and darkwolfie signed off on the kitchen cart that I want. Hopefully we'll pick those up next week.
So the cellar is significantly cleaner, we have a working washer, and I think we're both going to be crippled tomorrow. :-)