time flies

Mrs. Galt's hand-held mixer gives up the ghost.  For the past year, she's been jiggling the switch in order to get it to start.  Today it won't start at all.

After fussing with it for a minute or two, she pitches it in the trash, complaining, "They just don't make things like they used to."

I laugh.  At twenty-five years old, this is the mixer they used to make.