So long, Sue. You will be missed. From your rusted out water reservoir, to your sinister hissing while I piece my quilts, you have been a loyal companion. I will always remember our first time together, when I tipped you over, and you belched boiling water and tiny dead bugs onto my belly. My Italian grandma laughed and laughed when I told her what her gift had done to me.
Your purely decorative heat setting dial, and the fact that you regularly blow the circuit breaker has been fun. How many projects have you scorched? Too many to count. The ironing board will once again be safe for delicate fabrics.
The mystery that has been with me for 15 years or more is soon to be laid to rest. Why do you coyly carry the label “Self Clean II”? Perhaps because I can clean you myself. Why do you leak only sometimes? How do you know when I’m in a particular rush and only refuse to heat up on those days?
So, goodbye, Vesuvius, my Italian Iron of Impending Disaster. I will miss you. As I prepare to drop you off at the recycling center, I know that you will be recycled into something amazing. A stapler that only bends one side of the staple, a rotary cutter with a flat spot, or maybe a sewing machine that intermittently eats the bobbin thread.
Most of all, thank you to my Dear Husband, who went all out and bought me a fancy modern iron.