Not the one with DOB--that ended at 11:01 a.m. September 8, 2003, when we arrived at the airport one minute after our flight home departed.
It's the one with the garbage disposal here. I had had so much trouble with my previous relationships, but I thought I knew how to make it work this time. I gave it plenty of water. I made sure its food was always in small pieces. I tried hard not to overfeed it. I apologized profusely the time I dropped D1's fork inside on accident.
Things went along well for awhile. Then I grew bold and careless. I started to take it for granted.
Finally, on a sinkful of sweet potato peels, it had had enough. It chewed and spit and groaned and gave up. The water wouldn't go down. The peels wouldn't go down. When the dishwasher ran last night, it filled the sink to the brim.
Today the maintenance man came out and, with a bucket and siphon and some fiddling unclear to me, restored it to functionality. We're back together again, happy but a little bit wary.
I hope I can do better this time.