Dear soap dispenser inside my dishwasher,
For the last 10 years, you have been ever-so-faithful to me — your 1/2 cup capacity taking its full measure and then popping open at just the right time in the wash cycle to dispense your hidden treasure, a true credit to soap dispensers everywhere.
Your ability to stay open and on the job under the increasing water pressure you received daily was a testament to the fact that you were a soap dispenser of virtue – tried and true, a mechanism of the highest caliber.
Until today, that is, when I opened the lovely door you reside upon and discovered your lid clamped shut in undeniable defiance. Of what, I don’t know. But no amount of fawning or cajoling would entice you to slide open your delicately handled lid in order for me to endeavor a repair of you. I hated to use the fork, I really did, but you left me no choice. Sadly, the contents of your chamber were embedded against your lid, possibly having absorbed the water from last night’s wash cycle.
You see, I have an intense dislike for dishes that are spotty and are peppered with bits of leftover food particles from the depths of the dishwasher. Your deliberate disregard of this tacit agreement between us leaves me with no choice but to dethrone you from the pedastal I had unwittingly placed you upon and simply convey you to the nearest garbage receptacle. I can’t fault you, nor can I keep you…for you have grown much too old for your job and you are now being afforded an early retirement.
I am both saddened and humbled that an inanimate object could have such a profound effect on my dish cleaning abilities…but you did. And for your years of service you will receive no pension or gold watch, merely a heartfelt thank you.
But do not despair, little soap dispenser inside my dishwasher, I have your replacement on the way. I will not be long hand-washing dishes, for customer service assures me that their delivery is nothing, if not expedient.
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