I reveal my deep, secret feelings for my washer and dryer, and my shame for my neglect of my other appliances.
I’m starting to have real, intimate feelings about my washer and dryer.
Seriously. I spend more time with my washer and dryer than I spend with any member of my family, not counting the time I spend with my husband asleep. Is this wrong?
I come down the stairs in the morning, give the coffee pot, microwave and toaster a cursory greeting, followed by a brief partaking of what they have to offer. I rarely even consider those appliances for the rest of the day. Poor things. Given that they are all stainless-steel looking (pshaw! you don’t think I’d pay for REAL stainless appliances, do you?), the least I could do is give them an occasional polish.
A couple of times a week, I spend a few minutes of fairly quality time with my mop, broom and dustpan, but again, this is cursory. There’s no passion, no kindness and no love. That’s right: I’m USING them. I’m sure they feel it; the broom has seemed stiff and unyielding the last few times I’ve used it.
There there’s the iron. What glee I had when I purchased this shiny object! Finally, an iron that got HOT, hot enough to really get me going, to smash those nasty wrinkles right outta there. But like so many relationships, this joy of this newfound love was short-lived. Of course, I still care about my iron, and visit it about once a week. But I never sing to it anymore, and I don’t even bother to dump out the water, so its delicate innards won’t rust out. Poor, poor iron.
But, oh! My washer and dryer! The love and care I lavish upon them is scandalous. If nothing else, the sheer amount of time I spend with them, alone in the dark, humid laundry room should send the neighbors to gossiping over the fence. Not a day goes by that I don’t spend good, quality time with my washer and dryer. If the poor washer gets the least bit out of balance, I’m off and RUNNING towards it, trying to save it from any discomfort. The dryer’s lint screen gets carefully dusted every time it’s used… I’d hate for any gunky build-up to come between us. When the dryer sounds its plaintive buzz, I hurry to it as quickly as possible, hating for the pitiful bleating to continue.
Ahh, yes. My washer and dryer. My friends. My companions. My major appliances. *dreamy sigh*
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