Friday, February 10, 2006
The End of an Era
This is not how I spent this evening. This photo was taken last week, I think.
Tonight was spent watching Andrew and my Dad put a washer and dryer into my basement.
Everyone meet my new best friends.
We will be great friends, me and the Maytag twins. We will get along famously. We will wash clothes, towels, sheets, blankets and lots of other things. We will felt some slippers, maybe a few bags, even a camera bag, if I'm feeling creative. And when our relationship is really strong, we'll even try that handwash cycle.
I cannot wax poetic about my new friends without bidding a tearful goodbye to some old friends.
Everyone, say goodbye to my Mr. Kenmore.
Mr. Kenmore was a good and faithful companion. I didn't get to know Mr. Kenmore until he had reached "Old age" and although I'm sure he was a great machine in his younger days, he has certainly been good to me in these, his last few years. He, like many older men, knew how to take care of the women in his life. He washed my clothes with nary a complaint nor a groan. Although he occasionally became unbalanced and clunked his way around the basement, all I had to do was spend a moment with him, adjusting the clothes inside and letting him know he was appreciated, and then everything would be ok and he would spin my clothes nice and dry.
He was steadfast during the floodwaters of 2003, and did not panic, though he knew the water was rising quickly. He had a certain quiet dignity during the flood which reassured us all that everything would be OK. His chug-chug-chugga was the sound which calmed us all after the hurricane in the fall of 2003 as I prepared to head to Newfoundland, leaving my world, (but not my whites, darks or towels,) in a mess.
He felted more than 10 pairs of Fuzzy Feet slippers, four purses and only one cardigan. I know we both regret the day with the pen and my newest pants.
Over these last few months, Mr. Kenmore had suffered a health problem which required him to have a screwdriver jammed in the latch in order to get to the spin cycle. It was sad to see a man of his strength injured in this way. He never let on that anything was going wrong until today, when Andrew and my dad moved him in order to make room for the Maytag twins. He was leaking transmission fluid. It was a sad day for us all.
Alas, Mr Kenmore, I knew ye well.
As for the dryer...
He only dried my clothes the second time around. If he had taken quarters instead of just sucking on my electricity bill, I would have sworn that he was the same dryer that I used to fight with at the dorm in Halifax. But he does look sad out there, doesn't he?