Ode to a Whirlpool
Dear, dear Whirlpool, that doth warm my clothes with such eagerness,
Oh, dryer, you shining example of early 80’s home appliance technology with your flexible, silvery hose spreading your spring fresh breath to all the world
Why must you torture me so? Why must you withhold your very nature from me?
Your front-loading door, once beckoning, now mocking.
My work pants are wet, my socks cold, my heart broken.
Old age has set in for you, a scrap heap is in your future. You will be missed.
At least until next week when we get a new one!
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