I like machines. "Machine" was one of the first words I learned to spell.* Today my friend asked me when our world was going to catch up to The Jetsons. Interestingly, I had been thinking just a few nights ago about all the amazing machines in my life.
There are the cars, Rusty and Dudley. (They're so beloved they get names!) There are the washer and dryer. Not to mention the dishwasher. I don't have them, but Roombas (automatic vacuums) and Scoobas (automatic hard-floor sweepers and moppers) are delightful machines. (Technically my wood laminate flooring would be ruined by a Scooba, but still I pine for a machine that will sweep and mop my entry way, dining area and kitchen.) Plus, Eric bought me a bread machine at a garage sale for ONE DOLLAR. A working bread machine for ONE DOLLAR! So now I have a machine that bakes me fresh bread.
Some people may worry that machines will one day take over the world.
If I can wake up to clean clothes, spotless dishes and a freshly baked loaf of bread, I don't mind one bit if machines are in charge.
*I had a coloring book which featured a picture of a cartoon-ish cat and a conveyor belt. I distinctly recall asking my mom how to spell "machine" so I could write it on the page after coloring it. Then I memorized how to spell it.
1 comment:
I, too, love machines, but they have to work without being a huge hassle.
Household machines/equipment are obviously still being designed by men, though. (This is an ongoing joke in our family and not to be taken personally by anyone.)
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