Week 2: The Washing Machine Returns

 


June 30th 2022

Things have started to settle down here. Had a bit of a difficult time last month with That Thing spewing his guts up in the night. I’m sure he was ill, but it was nothing compared to what I went through. They put me on at all hours of the night. I didn’t know when my rest was coming. One moment I’ve just got off to sleep, the next I’m back on again; my head being thrown this way and that.

Saying that, it’s been a relatively quiet year. I’ve got used to the rhythms of the week. These People are characters of habit. I mean That Man has been eating the same muesli every day since they brought me home. And That Woman, as regular as clockwork, each evening will ask, ‘Have you seen my lip balm?’ They’re not spotaneous people: they like a timetable, they enjoy routine, and that's what they have for me: three cycles on Saturdays – light, dark and white. I know where I am with These People. I guess what I’m saying is things could be worse. If I weighed bigger at birth, I could be working – heaven forbid – in a launderette or a laundry room of a chain hotel.

Blessed be the fruit, I was born small. No, if this is my life, then I’ll take it. Even if it means a rough week with That Thing being sick. Working one day a week is a pretty sweet deal. Sure, I’ve got mates in second homes that are on permanent vacation, but I don’t think a Saturday job is too bad. Just a few more years of this and I can retire. Not long and I’ll be free to rest.

 

August 7th 2022

Strange, I wasn’t put on today. He went out early and came back late, but He didn’t put me on. I don’t know where She was. They talked about a baby shower the other week. Probably at one of those. I do hope her friend knows how filthy They are.

 

August 8th 2022

Still, not been switched on. I heard on the radio the other day that there’s water shortages in the area. Perhaps they’re not trying to use me as much, to be more green like those other snowflakes. I won’t complain. It’s a treat to have an impromptu holiday. Yes, it would be nice if I could have a few days away, resting in a Russian oligarch’s fourth London home, but I’ve heard Staycations are all the rage so I won’t complain.

 

AM: August 9th  2022

Beginning to get a bit worried. If they’re not using me, they’re just storing up washing. Next Saturday is going to be twice as hard. More loads, more headaches. Ah well, it’s only a week.

 

PM: August 9th 2022

Again! What the fuck!

 

August 11th 2022

I can’t believe this is happening to me. To inherit one Thing may be regarded as misfortune; to receive two, cataclysmic. They look small but I remember from last time the trouble they caused to my nervous system. How could they be so cavalier in bringing another Thing into the world? Have they not heard of carbon emissions? I head on Radio 4 how Things cause more pollution. Did they not consider my feelings? How I would be used more without extra pay. They paid for me years ago but haven’t paid me since. Yet they expect me to work harder. More work, no extra reward: those state sector teachers are right little capitalists deep down. Oh, how I hate them!

 

August 13th 2022

Things have been surprisingly calm. Maybe things won’t be so bad after all.

 

August 21st 2022

Ah! My head is on fire. A hot wash! What was it one of His audiobooks said, ‘In a gradually heating bathtub you’d be boiled to death before you knew it!’ And yet that is what is happening to me. I can feel the temperature going up and up. I go from feeling a bit hot under the collar to gasping for breath. Half an hour is their usual economy wash. I’ve been on for two hours and there’s no sign of stopping. I got through last time, but I can’t get through this time. Not if it’s going to be like this. 

Turn off the life support. Unplug me at the mains. Do not resuscitate. Life just isn’t worth living.   

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