The old machine has charm. The new
machine just does what it is told. The old machine has a point to
make. The new machine has enthusiasm perhaps but without character
he has no soul, he sits there so that people might admire him or use him
as an adjunct to their sense of fulfillment in a way that in too many
respects is often quite sickening.
I of course am perfect. For me the aedicule
finds solace in the ethereal and vibrant. I look for fulfillment in
an understanding of matter and in those processes of understanding that
lie beyond the functional. And certainly I accept that this makes me
Our washing machine recently has requested that a
body sit upon it during the spin cycle, otherwise it throws tantrums that
disturb the cat and threaten the foundations of that physical structure we
call our house.
The wife is the practical one here. She takes
with her the insect book, or a magazine with which to occupy her mind during
the long minutes the washing machine requires for its spin cycle. I
being more like the Fox Squirrel, see it as a chance to stare aimlessly at
nothing in particular.
This morning I took my turn on the washing
machine. It was a dark load. Heavy winter trousers and those
sorts of things. I anticipated a rough ride, but after the gurgle, I
sensed a lack of that attention getting vibration that so threatens the
For one brief minute I considered hopping off the
washing machine, just to see if it had become better tempered. 'Cure
happens' I thought. Which was sentimental of me, I realized.
Weak minded, and uncaring.