Please don’t die before our vacation.
I really want some clean undies to pack in the suitcase.
I know that you are tired and getting on in years, but I need you!
Haven’t I always used the shortest cycle to save your strength?
I can hear your tortured, unbalanced spinning.
Haven’t I always refrained from filling you with bleach unless absolutely necessary?
I can tell you’re off your game and want to go.
Haven’t I always wiped away your grime and dirty deposits?
Please don’t give up!
I need you for just one more battle, just one more burst of glorious, sudsy energy!
Stay with me!
If you will kindly wait ten days, I will happily address your ills.
I will. I swear!
I’ll even let you go, if that’s what you want.
You’ve done your duty.
After ten years of your continuous first rate service, I can’t complain.
You deserve a break.
You really, really do.
Poor Mr. Washing Machine, I know you’re not long for this world.
But I desperately beg, please don’t die before our vacation!