Monday, October 31, 2011


I hate you stick shift car because I can not drive you to freedom. You sit in my driveway taunting me daily, reminding me constantly of how at one time I could ride you whenever or wherever my heart desired. I hate you now!

I hate you iron because you remind me of just how much I have lost in my hands.  You snicker at me with your gleaming plastic, steaming me up about all that I have lost in my strength. If I dare to buy the cotton I love, I have to weigh the options...torture myself by ironing or wear wrinkled clothes.  I wear the wrinkled clothes most of the time and the few others...well I pay the price dearly.

I hate you wicked toilet that you are. Every single flush reminds me of how much you will need to be cleaned.  How much I will have to struggle with those stupid child proof devices before I even attempt to conquer your disgust. But conquer I must at some point as we can not yet afford a housekeeper.

I hate you Magnolia tree. For most of the year I truly love you and your beautiful blossoms that remind me of years gone.  Of the gentler years of tea on the porch.  But in the fall, I hate you.  Of course it is normal for you to drop your dead leaves.  This is what you must do to rejuvenate your blooms.  I am not ignorant to this fact but in the fall I despise what needs to be done. Like a toddler romping about a room, you leave your debris behind for me to clean.  Well, at least with you it is not year round contempt. You will redeem yourself in the spring.

I really, really hate you vacuum. Why were you invented in the first place?  Couldn't we just learn to live with dirt on our floors?  Is it that disgusting to have some fine particles, a few clumps of hair, and maybe a leaf or two to get caught in our toes?  I do hate you!  Not only are you exceptionally heavy (and yes I realize this is why you do such a great job) but you have the arrogance to display your superiority...
The Boss! Just who do you think you are anyway?  Bad enough you remind me of the shoulder and extreme hand pains I will endure to see gleaming floors and cat hair free carpets but to taunt me with this visible reminder of who exactly rules here. How dare you!

And Ms. Refrigerator, just because you store all the yummies in our home, don't think I care for you at all.  In fact, it is your constant care that causes me to hate you.  You not only need to be sterilized occasionally and I do mean occasionally in my home but you also need to be constantly supervised to ensure that no expired things loom in your depths. At the very least you could self clean. I mean we do have self cleaning ovens...why not refrigerators?

I hate you stairs!  You forever remind me of how I must pause every single step of the way while I try to reach new heights.  Why is it that we see fit to build anything above a single level?  Yes, yes, I know how much less environmental impact high rises are on the earth but what about the impact on those of us with bad knees, bad backs, or just those of us without energy?  Where is the justice in this after all?  I say we do away with every single extra stair in this world and flat line it all. I know, I will run for political office on this platform. Um, errrr rather idea.

I hate you shoes! Yes, those things that so many woman spend a small fortune on to lift their spirits. In fact, it is the very design of it all that infuriates me. I mean who in their right mind ever thought that a heel was necessary on a shoe. And the fact that some heels rise to 3 inches or more...well that is just an accident waiting to happen. Aren't we suppose to avoid falls as we age?  So why have anything over say a 1/2 inch heel?  I wonder if I could initiate a safety law suit on these manufacturers being there is no safety warning on high heeled shoes? Shouldn't they read...may cause dizziness due to possible loss of oxygen at this height, may cause severe bodily injury due to fall or broken ankle. Or that a toe area, not even big enough for a half dollar to squeeze into, would be fitting for a real foot let alone one with ra. I would suggest we manufacture them as torture devices and sell them to the CIA. Truly, I hate shoes. Not only have I spent a small fortune on every variety I can find for comfort but I am sad to report that my only two pairs I can wear are sneakers.  A sad state of affairs in my humble opinion. Anyone interested in buying almost new woman size 10 shoes?

I hate you door!  You weigh a ton! Who in their right mind put you up in the first place? True you have the right handle for my ra hands but your weight is unbearable.  And then you have the audacity to throw your weight around, trying to knock me down.  Many would say, "Well, just change it."  But have you priced good quality doors lately?  They cost a small fortune.  Oh well, I suppose I will just continue to use our garage door entrance until you rust shut. At that point, I can then justify the cost to ship you out to the junk yard. You can be assured I will be celebrating that day!

I hate you garbage can! Somewhere between today and several thousand yesterdays, local governments decided to switch over to automated garbage pickup. This is what ensued. The over sized garbage can that can be stuffed to the hilt, weighs a ton, and is by no means driver friendly evolved. Sure, it may save the garbage company some money but for those of us folks that must get this clunker to the curb...well, we pay the price!  I am fortunate that for the majority of the time, I don't have to wrestle with you but lately I have been reminded of my inabilities to deal with monsters like you. For this, I hate you!

I hate you dryer!  You remind me not only of how much I hate to do laundry in the first place, of how expensive you cost to run but also of how low I have to go to just get the clothes in and out of you. How dare you!  Couldn't you rise up to the occasion once in awhile? Or why couldn't you at least have a shoot whereby you would spit the clothes out folded into the appropriate spot? And good gracious, why can't you figure out what to do with all that lint? No, instead you force me to constantly bend down, pull out the trap and clean you. I am beginning to think that paper clothing should be revived.

I hate you bed! Well, at least on this day which is the day you need to be made. How dare you require me to struggle and pull, cuss and mumble. Well, at least for you I don't mind the struggle so much.  After all, with you I can find refuge from it all in your warm embrace at night.

I can only hope that you don't hate as much as I do but if you do hate inadament objects that aggravate ra like I do, I would love to know what you hate most.