I hate buying underwear for my house. You know, those items that nobody really sees, but they sustain and support the workings of the house. Things like appliances, roofs, water heaters, hoses, sprinkler repair parts, mattresses, plumbing, electrical, lawnmowers, trimmers, printers, computers, air conditioners, etc. etc. The list is endless. Endless, I tell you.
Today my washer died. RIP washer. You have washed about a million thousand bazillion loads for me over the last 12 years. Your almond colored goodness doesn't owe me a single penny. And yet, you are underwear. Now dead underwear. And you failed me. And I had to go buy more underwear tonight.
We had to replace your helpmate (dryer) several months ago. At least you can go to laundry heaven and be together. And my underwear will at least match again! It's been bugging me, a white dryer and an almond washer. Bugging. Hardcore. But that's how much I hate buying underwear. I waited till you made that unearthly noise this morning so as to avoid buying more underwear than I absolutely needed.
You served me well, you little almond beauty. If my new underwear serves me as well as you did, I'll be almost 70 when I have to toddle down to the store and buy more.
Now THAT is a horrid thought.