Just so we're clear, this is not a continuation of yesterday.
Somebody is bound to get confused.
A watched pot never boils.
This is one of those homespun truths that wallow unscientifically in the collective consciousness. I accept it as an axiom, knowing that perception has little to do with science.
I'm sitting in my post-breakfast kitchen, waiting somewhat impatiently. The dishwasher program has been running since 6am, and seems determined to continue indefinitely. The switch moved into the Done setting perhaps three minutes ago, but I'm waiting for the final signal before opening the door.
These have been impossibly long, frustrating minutes, stretched to form virtual hours of boredom. If Einstein had been born a few decades later, he could have used a dishwasher to investigate distortions in the Space-Time Continuum.
No doubt he had someone to wash up for him.
While I've been waiting, I've managed to eat a slice of toast and wash up a handful of breakfast things, open the curtains and blinds to welcome in the sun, and read a page of Hemingway.
And still, I wait.
I make a note to not do this kind of thing before heading off to work. The evening is always easier, less stressful.
But yes, finally! I hear the signal, a sharp rapping from the depths of the machine. Without hesitation, I pull the handle, and the machine unfolds in a rush of fragrant steam that fogs my glasses. A coughing reaches my ears as a figure unfolds and raises itself from the innards of the appliance.
My friend and arch genius iDifficult emerges from the hot mist. He is dressed in his best Admiral's uniform and cap. His clothes steam wetly.
Good grief, that's better! he near-bellows. Ah, Roth! he exclaims, clapping me on the back as he strides into the kitchen, chaperoned by the needy fog.
Feeling better? I ask, pleased to see him, as ever.
Indeed! He inhales hugely, delighted to fill his lungs. That decongestant you added to the detergent cleared my tubes up a treat! He sucks in another fill of hot air. Yes! Capital idea, old fellow! And these clothes have never looked cleaner!
Combining showering with laundry, I grin. Inspired. I notice the gentle rain on the floor in his wake. I tell you what though, I reflect, you're a bit wetter than either of us expected.
My friend pats himself a few times and frowns.
Yes, true. Any suggestions?
I step over to the door of the tumble drier, and swing it open theatrically.
Care to go for a spin?
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