Eight years, eight terrific years you have been with me. Almost as long we I've been married. We've had some ups as well as some dreadful downs (remember that Paige from "Trading Spaces" haircut in 2004? Really, what was I thinking??). You've been good to me most of the time. You've only let your temper get the best of you once or twice and cut out on me, but generally your loyalty day in and day out has been commendable. You've saved me from my terrible kinky wave near my face and helped straighten out many problems. You've even provided my dog Callie some luxurious moments of pampering.
I've known it was coming for a couple of months now. The high pitched whirring you started to make was not a good sign, but I cleaned out your lint same as always and yet the whirring continued. Finally Friday night you had given it your all and decided to make a grande finale by nearly exploding and shooting sparks as I dried my just washed hair. Thank you kindly for not killing me. RIP little hair dryer, I hope I will be able to find a suitable replacement soon.