An English In Kentucky


















Wednesday June 26th 2013  Tim Candler


    Some years ago the machine that washes clothes developed what I'd call a disgruntlement. It was neither compliant nor obedient, it was easily distressed, it preferred not to be ignored, and it was able to produce some very unsettling noises. Occasionally it would attempt to escape its electrical and water lifelines, and it would bound around the bathroom in a manner that suggested it was either determined to find some sort of portal to freedom, or it had gone insane.  Which meant that we'd been taking it too much for granted and it liked to be sat upon in order to restore it's sense of self worth and value and importance.  Kind of like putting a highly strung cat in a paper bag to calm it down, and just as inconvenient, I always thought.

     Over the years there has naturally been heated discussion about whether machines that wash clothes necessarily have to be level, and sometimes half hearted attempts have been made to produce levelness in order to test this hypothesis, but in no part of the domicile is levelness achievable this side of reducing the structure to rubble and starting from scratch.  I at least have managed this lack of levelness quite well, and really don't see why others appear unable to do the same. Then sometime yesterday the machine that washes clothes flooded its environment and was immediately taken outside to be shot.  It's corpse will be removed by kinder hearted professionals, who I am quite certain will also tell me that machines that wash clothes have to be perfectly level at all times.


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