A love letter to a household object

Dear Tumble Drier

Firstly, at the risk of sounding pedantic, I want to double check how you like to be addressed. Are you double-barrelled in the hyphenated sense or do you prefer to have a definite space between Tumble and Drier? I would never presume so much as to refer to you as T.D. although it does have a certain ring to it and I know that your neighbour, W.M., calls you that but then I suppose your relationship with him is much more intimate working as closely together as you do.

Secondly, I would like to thank you for your years of service and congratulate you for not exploding the day after your warranty expired as your predecessor did. Such loyalty is commendable these days in our throw away culture.

Thirdly, I must apologize for not noticing the kink in your venting hose earlier. I should have realized that my eldest (you know, the one with the t-shirts he wants to shrink because he likes them tight) retrieved the cat bowl from down the back wouldn’t know about your hose. Of course, the signs were there; the slightly damp waistbands, the same loads being dried twice over but you know how it is, too bogged down in being bogged down to notice. And talking of cats, I hope you don’t mind about them eating on top of you, it’s just that if I put their bowls on the floor then the dog eats their food and they’re OK really, aren’t they? Well, one of them is, the one that doesn’t look possessed but they won’t bother you, I promise, as long as they’ve got food. Much like the rest of the family really. Clean clothes and food.

I must close now – M.W.’s calling me. (‘Ding!’)

Yours truly, truly grateful