Like the microwave
Like the microwave oven I sit tucked neatly away in some corner Rectangularly small and pedestrian-white. People come to stand in front of me. They push my buttons. That is the only time I'm heard. The alarm, silence and snapping door closure. Everyone wants to have one to use but few really look inside to see their help is needed to clean me up. As they age a newer model comes and you are pushed out to the street.