The Garbage disposer
In the wee small hours of the morning
Came a problem with most urgent force,
A puddle on the walk gave them warning,
But they couldn't determine the source.
In hindsight the clues were numerous,
A crunching sound that didn't last;
Relief that was brief but humorous,
What may have dropped in must have passed.
The husband arising in darkness,
Thought to do his bit with home chores,
Finding to his dismay, unkind starkness;
The dishwasher had leaked on the floors.
Under sink space was evacuated;
The bags for recycle thriftily saved,
Were wet, sloppy, and saturated,
Box of detergent soaked and depraved.
The guilt his wife felt over dropping,
Something carelessly into the drain,
When the cause was seen, quickly stopping,
The crunch, disposer part under strain.
The husband was challenged in pain,
To bend that low, sought for a seat,
His efforts seemed all in vain;,
Collapse of the tote used indiscreet .
Now look, oh yes, look for an answer,
A shelf from the last project was found.
It didn't work out for the stereo;
Possibilities seemed to abound.
The disposer then was analyzed,
By the steely clear eyes of a champ;
He found holes eroded, penny-sized,
Discovering what made things so damp.
It's to the web for information;
Will the cost be too great to defray?
A bit cheered, through determination,
Turned around if we're willing to pay.
Badger brand like land of desolation,
Which had been rudely taunted before,
Could turn around our grim consternation;
Wait for light and we'll go to the store.
The wife, though she felt unnecessary,
Stayed up with him until the pale dawn.
Her relief was satisfying, oh, very!
No repair to pay, she cheered him on.
©01/13/2012 Carol Morfitt Welch