19 November 2012

Killing me (not so softly) ...

My kitchen appliances have entered into a suicide pact.

First, the toaster went on a starvation diet and refused to ingest anything. It was only a very young toaster, so I’m thinking possibly it was anorexic.

Now the oven is experiencing a slow prolonged and, for me, an extremely painful passing away, as the last bit of heat dissipates from its cranky old body.

They say troubles come in threes, so I’m expecting to wake up one morning and find the vacuum cleaner hanging from the ceiling, with a note beside it saying “I’m sorry, I couldn’t take the mess anymore”. And who could blame it?

No, the appliances are not to blame. The blame must be placed firmly where it lies.

With my sister.

My sister visited for two weeks and during that time she had the audacity to clean up after herself every day. Imagine! The nerve of that woman!

She thought that she was “helping”, but what she was actually doing was deluding my poor appliances into believing that living in a clean house was a real possibility for them.

It was not. It never was. It was always a pipe dream that could never come true. And now my appliances cannot face life knowing that it will never be as beautiful or as clean as it once was. Occasionally I hear sobbing emanating from the kitchen.

Honestly sis, why’d you have to go and put stars in their eyes?

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