Ode to My Washer

Anyone who has ever lived without a washer and dryer has a special affinity for the appliances once they’re on hand–especially if arduous trips to laundromats are woefully inconvenient. The new washer in my apartment has so won my heart, I can’t resist writing it a sonnet:
Oh, Whirlpool Duet, your wringer cycle,
Fills my day with laundry bliss,
There’s never soggy towels to mourn,
So you deserve a great big kiss.
My power bill stays small and tidy:
fewer spins mean lower bills,
If only you could fold the clothing,
I swear, I’d put you in my will.

One response

  1. I’m sorry I have to give you bad news but a sonnet is 14 lines of iambic pentameter. Curse the damned English teacher that I am but I can’t pass up a chance to correct. i think what you have is a limerick…Don’t hate me because I’m a stickler.

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