Taken for Granted

Originally uploaded by laundrylessons.

If you read a blog about laundry chances are the day will come. Yes, a broken machine plagues my laundry room. A faint smoky smell infiltrated my small room today, like a match stuck a few rooms away. I just figured a little wayward lint got too close to the part of the dryer that makes heat. Or something like that. But I decided to let the clothes spin around, thinking that the darn machine would stop its whining.

But after an hour, the clothes were still wet. My fear was realized. Repairmen must be called. Yes, called after the long Thanksgiving break. I’ll be languishing by the phone tomorrow, waiting for the return call. Broken dryers just aren’t the heavy weights of household repairs, ranking above the dishwasher, but way below the furnace and hot water heater.

I relied on my dryer to spin warmth into my piles of wet clothes. It let me down. I’m always there when I’m supposed to be, so I lose my patience when things or people don’t deliver. But then I realize maybe the machine is worn out. Have I taken good care of the machine? Naw, I take it for granted, barely remembering to clean the lint trap and piling the top with tablecloths and dishtowels. Worse, only about once a year do I take a hanger that I’ve stretched out, and shove it through the little door outside that emits that good smelling dryer air to the outside. The lint that I get out of there looks like fluffy snowballs of fuzz. I’m starting to think the dryer may be rebelling from lack of emotional support. And I can understand.

I want to be reliable and helpful, a friend once even called me dependable. Not too sexy, but one of those nice-people attributes I try to practice. But when we aren’t cared for, it’s hard to warm up to those we’re supposed to help. Taken for granted doesn’t feel good. My poor dryer.

I’m guilty of taking people for granted. But like a bunch of the other lessons my darn laundry room has taught, this broken dryer is putting it in my face. When I write a check to the repairman, I’ll remember the cost of ignoring the efforts of others. And I’ll thank my family and friends for the little things they do…because I don’t know who I’d call to repair them.