Washing My Troubles Away

It all started a couple months ago when I innocently turned on my dryer. A loud thump, thump, Whrrrr. I quickly turned off the dryer and examined it thoroughly (as if I knew what I were looking for) to assess whether or not it was going to explode. Feeling satisfied (probably more desperate to get laundry done so Saylor wouldn't have to wear a dirty uniform - again) by my inspection, I endured the thunderous noise for the entire day, but spent many hours looking, via Internet, for a replacement dryer. Those who know me will shout an "Amen" when I say that I don't make decisions easily or quickly, and so you'll understand that I was a tad overwhelmed by the options before me. There are cycles and temperatures and volumes to consider. Not to mention the myriad load capacities, loading configurations, and load-bearing construction materials. It was more than I could bear. So I continued to use my jet-engine-loud dryer, going without clean clothes many-a-time that I forgot to turn it on before I hopped into bed (night was the only time I could escape the high decibel level by turning on my even higher decibel white noise maker). Well, I have officially retired that dear old dryer, after discovering this morning that it gasped its last breath of snuggle-fresh air somewhere between Jay Leno and Good Morning America last night. It looks so awkward and alone, sitting in my garage (strategically placed between the door and anywhere one may need to walk - don't worry, I'm sure it'll be there for a while). Kinda' makes me feel bad. We've been through a lot together in the last nine years. It's unwavering service deserves a moment of silence...oh, wait, what's that? Do you hear that silence? I think it's the soft, soft silence of my new dryer, obediently turning a load of wet clothes without a single complaint. Maybe I'll give my old dryer a little kick in the side on my way out the door tomorrow.