There is a new love in my life. I’m in that phase where I can hardly wait to get home from work and see him. It’s a wonderful feeling — one I haven’t had in a long time. It’s strange how quickly one’s life can change.
Ironically, I’ve had my sights set on him for years. I hate to admit this, and this may sound juvenile, but I’ve gazed at him from afar with the hope that we might meet someday.
I didn’t expect to feel such excitement when we finally got together, but I did. I guess you could say it’s like a fairy tale come true. My personal life has even started to mirror the tragic love affair between Mark Antony and Cleopatra. I just hope our union isn’t quite as tragic.
Before I go any further, maybe I should reveal the so-called new man in my life. Unfortunately, he isn’t very tall and is rather skinny. He is also very quiet and tends to mumble when we’re together, a trait which I’m trying to overlook. The best part of our relationship is gliding across the floor together in magical unison. Who is this mystery man? Who is this love of my life? Well, he’s my new steam mop I bought myself for Christmas. Who else did you think it would be? Angelina Jolie already has her paws all over Brad Pitt and George Strait is a bit old for me.
I love dancing from room to room with my main squeeze. We glide across my kitchen floor just like Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. The only thing missing is an orchestra in my living room playing “Cheek to Cheek.” We are quite the pair.
The only complaint I have with my partner is that he tends to sweat excessively. He has the tendency of blowing steam in my face, which ruins the mood.
This isn’t my first love affair with a major appliance. I even pledged my undying devotion to my Kitchen Aid mixer on national radio during the Jeff Foxworthy country music countdown show several years ago. I called in with the redneck joke, “You must be a redneck if you want to marry your Kitchen Aid mixer.”
I’m not sure what it is about kitchen and household gadgets and appliances, but I moon over them like I drool over a bowl of Whitey’s ice cream. It’s down right shameful if you think about it.
One of the happiest days of my life was when I bought my electric stove. I can remember that day just like it was yesterday. There it was — sitting in the showroom sparkling under the glow of florescent lights. Tears come to my eyes just thinking about it.
When she was finally delivered to my house, it was like the Fourth of July. There were fireworks in the air. I could hardly wait to try it out. I was just about on the verge of weeping when I baked my first batch of chocolate chip cookies.
Another appliance that I’m enamored with is my bread machine. I absolutely love and adore this machine. For me, it’s one of the great wonders of the world right up there with the pyramids in Egypt and the Great Wall of China. I hate to say this too loudly but a steaming loaf of bread is a lot more impressive than either one of these so-called great wonders of the world.
There are days, even when I’m not going to bake bread, that I long to marvel at its beauty and splendor. There is just something about my bread machine that makes my world go round.
My undying love and affection for kitchen appliances goes back to my childhood. I can trace its roots back to my Betty Crocker Easy-Bake Oven. I know this will be hard to believe, but I still have it stored in the basement and it still works. I bet it could still bake a mean coffee cake that would put Rachel Ray and Martha Stewart to shame.
Unfortunately, my oven was bumped from its place of glory in the kitchen when my bread machine arrived. Now, if you believed that then I guarantee you will believe just about anything. I’m nuts about appliances — just not that nuts. I will testify on a stack of cookbooks, however, that the love I feel for my appliances is real.
My steam mop has definitely made my life complete. Those dreadful afternoons of using a sponge mop are over. I no longer have to hang my head in shame. I can now live the life I was destined to lead with Freddy, my steam mop, by my side. By the way, you can just call me Ginger from now on.
Angie Bicker has been employed with the Clinton Herald since 2001. She can be reached at email@example.com.