My kitchen sings

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My kitchen sings a symphony of morningtime domesticity.

The watery swish and thump of the washer sets the tempo for an 18 minute concerto. The coffemakers clucks and chirps melodiously. The psst of spray cleaner on the countertop, whisper of sponge, and the legato smoothness of water from the tap join in the chorus. The tinkle of last night's late night glassware set in the drainer accompanies the mellow clunk of ceramic mugs ready for the finale.

Just before the washer ends the program with a shrill warning beep, the coffemaker gives its highly anticipated solo performance in a last, throaty boil and the mugs beat a one-two timpani as they are set down for filling.

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