My dearest G.E.,

It is with deep sadness that I write this. Despite our brief relationship, I want to extend my heartfelt gratitude for your many years of service.

Thank you for your loyalty. You were there at all hours of the morning, noon and night. Your presence at parties, gatherings, and family barbecues was deeply appreciated. You were there for the good times, bad times, and most importantly, when things got really messy.

It is for these reasons that I find it hardest to dismiss you. Nonetheless, I cannot overlook this morning’s explosion that sent forty liters of water raining down on the basement laundry room. Yes, the industrial size box of laundry detergent can be replaced, but the seven hours spent cleaning the soapy flood is an infraction I cannot forget.

So, it is with deepest regret that I banish you to the darkest reaches of the garage. The hole in my kitchen cupboard is daunting. Despite the fact that in your later years you missed a spot here and there, I cherished you still. Your contribution to maintaining my sanity will be sorely missed.

Sincerely,

Arlena de Bruin

“What are you doing?” My husband stands at the bedroom door as I frantically pack a suitcase of basic family necessities.

“Packing…”

“Packing? Why?” His face is twisted like a question mark.

“Well, we’re going to a motel, of course,” I say decisively. “We can’t be expected to live in these sub-standard conditions until a new dishwasher arrives, now can we?”

Mark shakes his head and crawls back to the kitchen and the dishing disaster. Apparently his measurement of sub-standard is distinctly different than mine. I don’t expect him to understand. How can he even begin to comprehend the magnitude of my loss? Live without a dishwasher? I mean really, this is a partnership here… can we not have more realistic expectations?

I head back to the kitchen only to be caught by a flailing water hose that’s now power washing the ceiling, walls and hall carpet.

“What… the…heck…?” I blurt out between dodges.

“Quick, grab the hose so I can turn off the water!” My husband is crammed between the partially evicted dishwasher and the kitchen sink in a desperate attempt to turn off the water. After a heated discussion on the degree of intelligence it might have taken to paint over the shut off valve, the crisis is over. I look around at the dripping mess. If only there was a dry towel left in the house.

Don’t get me wrong, a dishwasher explosion may not be the most critical catastrophe in Kelowna today. In fact, it might not even make the evening news. But for a girl who’s never washed a dish by hand? The dishwasher isn’t the only thing having a meltdown.

“I’ve got good news and bad news,” Mark says as he puts down the phone. I brace myself. “Good news is it will only cost a month’s salary to replace the thing.”

“That’s the good news?”

“Bad news is we can’t get one until Tuesday.” He ducks his head and prepares for another hosing.

I sink to the floor. That’s not bad news. That’s a prelude to Armageddon.

“Next Tuesday? Are they crazy? Did you tell them my sanity depends on it?” Mark looks at me like the issue of saving sanity is past the point of salvation.

“Sorry, hun… that’s the best they can do.”

I slink off down the hall to do some deep-breathing exercises. Today’s Sunday. Like I’m going to survive until Tuesday.

My Dearest Frigidaire,

It is with deep anticipation and enthusiasm that I welcome you to our kitchen. Every time I gaze upon your shining, stainless steel countenance, I know I am going to be okay. Your 5-Level Precision Wash System, NSF Certified Sanitize Rinse Option, and BIG Tub Design were once but a fantasy of mine.

Please know that your presence is both a strength and comfort. I look forward to a deep and meaningful relationship with you, and would like to express my deepest gratitude for bringing peace and joy back into my life.

Sincerely,

Arlena de Bruin

P.S… my Therapist thanks you too!