Appliances

The basement air in summer reads about 70 percent relative humidity before a person even opens the door. The smell arrives first, a musty weight that settles in the sinuses.

In Phoenix, the monsoon humidity lifts the dew point into the fifties for a few weeks every July, and air conditioners suddenly earn their keep.

Every washing machine that has ever spun a wet load has tried to walk across a laundry room floor.

The clearance numbers are the least interesting part of appliance placement, and the most ignored.

The electric fireplace is the most lied-about piece of furniture in the modern American living room.

The standard advice for dorm room mini fridges is almost entirely about what to buy: get a 4.4 cubic foot model, make sure it has a freezer compartment, measure the doorway.

The vent hose behind a clothes dryer is the least glamorous piece of infrastructure in the average home.

The grinding mechanism in a garbage disposal is a blunt instrument, and most people treat it like one. They shove food down with the water running, listen to the brief mechanical scream, and move on.

Floor damage during an appliance move is rarely the dramatic crash through the ceiling joist or the refrigerator tipping off a dolly on the stairs.

The number printed on the front of a microwave oven is one of the least useful pieces of information in a modern kitchen.