DISHWASHER RITUALS; AN EPIPHANY
DISHWASHER RITUALS
December 7, 2020
Epiphany:
I need help.
I’ve got to stop this weird dishwasher loading obsession. I’ve been aware of this
problem for a long time, but it’s been amplified during the pandemic when I don’t have my housekeeper on a regular basis. And I don’t have a boyfriend on a regular basis.
Guys love tasks. Loading or unloading the dishwasher, taking out the trash, getting the cars gassed and washed; these are all easy tasks that a man can do to please his honey. I despise tasks; they are a waste of time, they are too tasky, too taskish. They take up my precious time, and none of the tasks are forever accomplishments. They are ongoing which takes away any feelings of accomplishment.
Celebrations and Rituals - I love to celebrate but I’m not great at planning rituals in advance. I mean, that’s how it becomes a ritual, you do it again and again.
Well here it is, another 3 weeks have passed and once again I’m spending the day getting my Herceptin infusion. Every three weeks this is my ritual. For the past 13 years. It’s a celebration of sorts because I am still alive to have the ritual. The average lifespan for MBC (metastatic breast cancer) is 3 years. I’ve overstayed my welcome. It takes 6 hours for my infusion because I’m allergic to the drug that keeps me alive, so we run the IV super slow so it doesn’t kill me. And when it runs slow, I don’t have to take premeds such as my be-hated Benadryl or the Fat-Faced Steroid Sisters.
Celebrations and Rituals - I’m just not great at planning in advance. I mean, that’s the whole premise of the bit. That’s how things become a ritual, you do them again and again.
I come by my lack of ritual planning in an honest way. And not to blame my parents for everything even though everything is ultimately their fault. I could have certainly decided upon a more planny behavior. Like my sister who is very planny.
I do have one weird secret ritual - it has to do with my dishes. Actually, just my dirty dishes. I am a secret competitive dishwasher loader. A dishwasher contortionist. I spend more than a normal amount of time (which would be zero) wondering who the fuck designed the inside of my dishwasher? Wondering why all the racks don’t adjust and bend and move and become customizable? Why isn’t the inside solid gumby?
Have the Bosch people ever loaded a dishwasher I wonder? I am a dish-loader-aholic. Every week I swear to myself - I PROMISE myself, for sure I’m going to load AND run the dishwasher every 2 days. MAXIMUM by the third morning latest.
And every week I load and load and load. 5 days and sometimes 6 days and as many as 7 days of assorted rinsed dishes, rearranging and re-imagining ways to fit one more dish, just one more bowl over here, a Tupperware lid snuck in there, oh if I move this plate here and that plate there I could fit one small glass over there.
My dish loading ritual lasts until my dishwasher simply cannot hold one more utensil, not even a tiny butter knife and then I’m finally satisfied. I spin the top spinner, as you’re supposed to do before closing the door. I tuck in the little dish soap Pillow Guy, his belly puffy with detergent and rinse aid. It’s a beautiful sight.
I imagine sharing my fully loaded dishwasher photos on Instagram and Twitter, hashtag Bosch, hashtag ThisIsHowItsDoneSuckers, hashtag MarthaStewart look at me! Hashtag
Flori Knows Best.
Unfortunately, once I’m no longer high on my dish-loading endorphins I crash with the realization that I will have to unload all those platey things and put them away. ANOTHER TASK FOR MY INVISISBLE BOYFRIEND. Honey, COULD YOU PLEASE EMPTY THE DISHWASHER for me? Sure, he answers, and I quickly remind him to wash his hands first, AND I smile, hug him, mouth plant a good kiss along with an ass squeeze. I do have some kitchen skills.
Boyfriend-less, unloading the dishwasher is exactly the opposite of loading for me—I hate it. I will procrastinate and avoid it. I’m embarrassed to admit I’ve used paper plates rather than open that dishwasher door. It’s just so happy being tightly closed at the end of the cycle, its little red light proudly stating SANITIZED!
MY DISHWASHER IS EMPTY RIGHT NOW, and again, like the dish-loader-aholic that I am, I swear I won’t do it again. I promise myself and my tiny dish soap Pillow Guy that I will load the dishes every two or three days max and then run the dishwasher like a normal girl. I PROMISE!!