Dear Dishwasher,

It has been years since I last saw you and could greet you as a friend.
I think of you – think of the times I moaned and rolled my eyes whenever we had an encounter. I often pushed your buttons – and you were always forgiving.

People change.
I took you for granted and feel the need to apologize for the way I treated you. I was young and didn’t know what I was doing. I am so sorry.
Now, that you’ve been gone for so long, I can honestly say: I miss you. Dearly.

I am certain my dishes do not appreciate me invading their privacy every day – I often have to touch them in the most intimate places… it leaves us all feeling uneasy. Most of the time, we can’t even look each other in the eye afterwards… talk about awkward.

I want you to know that I can’t stop thinking about you. I saw your cousin at my friend’s house the other day – he looks a lot like you.

Perhaps one day, you will find your way back to me.
I will look for your coming.

With gratitude,
the Rueful

Dear Tweezers,

I am curious to find out why you always feel like disappearing when I need you the most.
I’ve been running around my apartment searching for you for quite a while now – but you seem to have learned to conjure up a magic veil, for I can’t find you anywhere. I am sure if I was real quiet, I could hear you giggling.
So, instead of continuing to wreck my apartment and visiting dark places I have probably never been before, I decided to write you this letter – maybe appealing to your humanity, or better, “metal-ity”¬†will do the trick.
Please, do me the favor and turn up soon. I am sure you won’t like sharing a home with someone who looks like this:


(No, your disappearance won’t trigger a gender transformation, but you get the idea.)
I will be doing the dishes, eagerly awaiting your response.

The Cavewoman To Be

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