It’s an eternal joke among my family that I murder household appliances at an alarming rate. In twenty years of marriage, I’ve owned (and subsequently killed) six vacuum cleaners, ten coffeemakers, and too many blenders to count. In fact, the joke continues, with my penchant for frozen drinks poolside, I average one senseless-blender-killing by the end of summer every year.

Last year, I managed to get thru Labor Day with my handy Osterizer still intact and felt pretty smug about it. That is, until yesterday. See, the in-laws, Mom and Dad, (you can read more about them here) were over for Father’s Day and with 90+ degree temps, it was a perfect occasion for a few Pina Coladas. The first pitcher was so successful, the kids began to ask for their own frozen drinks. So I decided to whip up a few non-alcoholic banana daiquiris for the under-21 crowd.

That’s when I heard it: the unmistakable grinding of a blender motor gasping its last. I managed to churn out their daiquiris and even pushed through another pitcher of rum-laced Pinas, but by then, smoke was wafting from the motor and the entire apparatus shook as if it had the DT’s.

Well accustomed to the sound and smell, my husband simply shook his head and said, “Killed another one, huh?”

But that’s not where the story ends. This morning, I went into the kitchen to set up Mr. Coffee and watched in horror as that elixir of life poured not into the glass carafe, but onto my counter and floor. Oh, the humanity!

Guess I’ll be heading to my local store for newer, more exciting models of my late companions. Life goes on…