More and more I find myself taking care of appliances and gadgets that were supposed to take care of me.

Take the kitchen. Please. Granite countertops are all the rage.

They’re beautiful and durable but come with a long list of do’s and don’ts. Do blot spills immediately, don’t use an abrasive sponge, do use a soft cloth, do use coasters under glasses, bottles and cans and don’t set hot pans on the counter without a trivet underneath.

Granite is a slab of rock formed by the fiery heat and intense pressure of volcanoes, but once it enters my home, it suddenly needs kid glove treatment.

Then there is the cooktop stove whose maintenance was supposed to be as easy as wiping up a spill. I spend more time cleaning that shiny black surface than I spend on my hair. You boil over one time and you have to scrub with the special polish, rub with the special sponge, and when that doesn’t work, you scrape with a not-so-special straight-edge razor blade.

The self-cleaning feature on the range that is supposed to save elbow grease advises that the fumes released in the cleaning process can be harmful to household pets such as birds. If the bird isn’t going to hang around to smell the fumes, I’m not either. There are days when the range now enjoys more time alone in the house than I do.

Environmentally friendly front-load washing machines were supposed to save time, money and energy. They collect mold and mildew and have birthed an entire line of products designed to help owners free their machines of mildew and odors. Consider it your new hobby.

It used to be you just wiped down a stainless steel sink. Now there is a polish to use that eliminates streaks and finger prints. Oh, and rub with the grain of the stainless steel, would you?

The tile setter who redid our bathroom suggested we reseal the grout at least once a year. I put it on my calendar for Doomsday.

Even the filtration water pitcher designed to give us purer and better tasting water is needy. Once you see little black specks floating in the pitcher you are to jump up, run to the store and buy a new filter. I find it easier to say I am serving pepper water.

A red light inside the refrigerator flashes once a year warning that its filtration system needs attention, too. This predictably happens at Thanksgiving. What better time than a family holiday to lie on your stomach in the middle of the kitchen and struggle to unscrew the knob holding the old filter, pull it out and put in a new one equivalent to a nice dinner out for two.

My nighttime routine used to be to tuck the kids in bed, now I run around tucking in electronics—plug in the cell phone, connect the USB to recharge the iPod and turn off the computer monitor. Nighty-night.

We have been trained to jump, run, buy and polish at the first buzz, dent, scratch, beep or flashing light.

If all of our appliances and gizmos were kids, we’d say they were spoiled rotten.

The dishwasher just beeped. It always has been sassy.