A Love Letter

UNLESS YOU ARE A PRIVILEGED AMERICAN WHO LOST HER ELECTRIC CLOTHES DRYER.

--CAYCE DAVIS

Like many homes in the United Kingdom, ours does not have a dryer for the laundry.  

I've come to accept the fact that my washing machine will live alone.

It's a small price to pay for my dream of living abroad, but recently I found myself wistfully reminiscing on those innocent days with past dryers.

Dear Former Dryers,

I'm sure you never expected to hear from me again, but I wanted to reach out and tell you how much you meant to me.

The times we had together weren't always perfect (Hey Kenmore, remember that time in 2006 when you gave up on me right before I had my first child?), but much of what we had was fantastic.  Remember when you'd warm the kids' robes for them to have after a shower? And I can't even count how many times you saved me from ironing.

Sure, you ate way more socks than could possibly be good for you, but I'm forever grateful for all the towels, jeans, and blankets we shared.

In the end it's the little things I miss.

Like how sometimes you would forget to dry the clothes and surprise me with them still wet, allowing me to take a break rather than fold and sort sheets and towels.  That meant so much. 

Truly, it did.

Sometimes, as I'm hanging panties around the house to dry, I think of how gentle you were with my delicates.  You took your time and made me feel like a queen.

Day after day you showed up and made my life better.

I gave you very little attention and you almost never complained.  

I'm sorry I took you for granted.

Oh what I'd give just to hear your annoying "BUZZ!"  just one more time... 

Love,

Cayce