Only the dryer knows
Dryers are funny appliances and seem to have a life all their own. Socks go in and at least one never comes out. They refuse to give up the forgotten coin, hiding it among the tumbled clothes just to drive you crazy. And, despite hundreds of drying sessions of the same clothes, the lint trap is always full; so full that it's a wonder there are any intact threads left. But most interesting, did you know a dryer talks? I've always suspected it but as of late, its messages have become loud and clear.
"What does it say?" you may ask. A lot! It speaks the loudest, almost screaming, when I open the door and empty the contents onto the kitchen counter. As I begin to sort and fold the still warm clothes, I hear the statements of fact.
"You sure had a lot of stinking running clothes. Whew! You sweat so much! Gross. Look at all those grimy socks. And the running bras are getting a little worn, wouldn't you say? And hey, set my temp a little lower. You're sure to ruin all those stretchy running skirts if you put me on high. How many times do I have to remind you? You a moron, or what?" I smile at his candor and promise to do better. Then, I carefully fill my drawers with the freshly laundered clothes, knowing that the process will be repeated very soon.
It didn't always talk to me like that. Last year, the dryer didn't get as much of a workout because, well, I didn't get much of a workout either. The dryer and his sister, Wishy-Washy, didn't have to see much action to keep up. They sat quietly, their silent scorn mocking me only once a week."Wimp," they whispered. "Couch potatoe. Slug," they quipped. "Nothing in here but undies and a couple of jeans." And he was right. What goes in comes out (mostly). It is a telling sign.
You can always count on your dryer to tell the truth. Have any interesting conversations lately?
"What does it say?" you may ask. A lot! It speaks the loudest, almost screaming, when I open the door and empty the contents onto the kitchen counter. As I begin to sort and fold the still warm clothes, I hear the statements of fact.
"You sure had a lot of stinking running clothes. Whew! You sweat so much! Gross. Look at all those grimy socks. And the running bras are getting a little worn, wouldn't you say? And hey, set my temp a little lower. You're sure to ruin all those stretchy running skirts if you put me on high. How many times do I have to remind you? You a moron, or what?" I smile at his candor and promise to do better. Then, I carefully fill my drawers with the freshly laundered clothes, knowing that the process will be repeated very soon.
It didn't always talk to me like that. Last year, the dryer didn't get as much of a workout because, well, I didn't get much of a workout either. The dryer and his sister, Wishy-Washy, didn't have to see much action to keep up. They sat quietly, their silent scorn mocking me only once a week."Wimp," they whispered. "Couch potatoe. Slug," they quipped. "Nothing in here but undies and a couple of jeans." And he was right. What goes in comes out (mostly). It is a telling sign.
You can always count on your dryer to tell the truth. Have any interesting conversations lately?
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