My washing machine and I are soul sisters. We both cycle, her more than I-thank goodness but we both take the soiled and spit out the orderly, again, she tips the scale with that one and well eventually, we will both burn out. Never have I given her the respect she deserves. Oh, great white metal box who I have taken for granted my whole life, would you partake in a martini while we spin our thoughts together? You know what I cherish the most about you? You are always there, no matter what and I love how you don't care if I show up in pajamas at noon with you still holding wet, clean clothes that are beginning to smell musty. You really know how to keep a secret, sister.
Whether her name is Maytag, Kenmore, Samsung, Whirlpool, I know them all. I can safely say I have measured my life out with loads of dirty laundry. Either whites with bleach or at other times, darks in cold water with straight detergent-your nectar of the gods you bring me back to reality. No matter what I do with my life you will always be there to remind me I am a woman. Thank you my dearest sister!
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