sick things in my kitchen

And I'm not even referring to the trash can, which invariably contains a poopy diaper, or the fridge, which I'm proud to say contains nothing that is growing fur at present.

No, the appliances are dropping like flies around here. My steamer, my beloved steamer, steamer of all things wonderfully tasty and boiler of pasta extraordinaire, is dead. It was dead in a flaky sort of way, but now that the technician has visited it is, of course, completely dead. And, of course, they don't have another one in stock. They claim I'll get a call "soon" and should see a new one next week. Sometime. Maybe. I should have realized this would be a problem when they told me they only have two guys trained for Gaggenau (and I learned today they are brothers) and they have been alternating weeks of vacation and illness.

The other dead appliance is my espresso machine, after giving me twelve years of faithful, flawless service. I was waxing poetic about it just last weekend. Shows what I know. As I was steaming some milk for cocoa I detected a slight, but unmistakable, scent of sulfur. Shortly thereafter, steam ceased to be produced. I have emailed a service company in Seattle and await their reply. They will probably say, "Look, lady, you got twelve years out of the thing. Be happy and go buy a new one." Unfortunately, I want another Saeco Estro Vapore. I know how to use it, after seeing Korby Kummer demonstrate on a Martha Stewart tv show eons ago, a show I saw at least five times. They are no longer available, not even the silly Starbucks-branded version. I can probably find one on eBay but I want a brand spanky new one. The last thing I want to do is research a new machine. A sharp stick in the eye, or perhaps a mammogram, would be more pleasant.