Is there a place where you could submit an object to a missile testing site and if so could I please volunteer my dishwasher? Perhaps a monster truck rally that needs to flatten something. Contact me, I have a dishwasher for your destruction needs.
I wasn’t born a raging lunatic with a bloodlust for kitchen appliances; I was made one. It all started a little less than two years ago when I purchased a stainless steel cube that disguised itself as a brand new not inexpensive dishwasher. Before, then I was passably sane.
Since the fateful installation that dishwasher has been broken and been inoperable 3 times. In the 21 months it has occupied prime real estate in my kitchen, it has been operable for an average of 7 months before breaking again, but to be honest calling it operable is coming from a reserve of goodwill I didn’t know I was still capable of. Dishwasher is a misnomer for the thing under my counter. Yes, there were dishes. No, there were not washes.
The dark days of my unholy union with this appliance had me prewashing each and every item I put inside.
Could it handle a dribble of coffee? No.
A smear of fresh ketchup? No.
A piece of scrambled egg? No.
The ineffectiveness was so staggering I announced to anyone not wise enough to clear out of the kitchen when I did dishes. I’d play little games with my nemesis and proclaim things like:
I’m going to leave this little fleck of parsley on this plate. Do you think the dishwasher will get it?
My boys would look up from their phones and exchange a knowing glance. We’re going to have to tell the home she’s got a thing about parsley.
“Spoiler alert,” I’d shout. “It won’t!”
Yesterday I put us all out of our misery and I purchased a new dishwasher. All night long I worried that my new dishwasher would be the same ineffective piece of future scrap metal as the one I have now. I think that’s what so funny about our relationships with electronic appliances, we believe they keep us above the fray, they protect us from the futility of our existence. When they break they remind us we are on the razor’s edge of chaos and one fleck of parsley away from our primitive selves.