The Dishwasher Part 2
The Dishwasher Part 2
January 1, 2021
For most of my adult life, I’ve struggled with competitive dishwasher loading, competing only with myself and my kitchen. Ranting silently about the poor design, the lack of flexibility and how disgusting it is to touch that slimy pillow soap guy who is often stuck to his friends. Basically, I dump a lot of my daily rage on the dishwasher each night as I tidy up before bed.
Determined to make 2021 the Year of Normal Dishwasher Loading, after a mere two days of dirty dishes, locked and loaded, I pressed “start”.
Look at me! I said to my Chihuahua, one day before New Year’s Eve. This is how it’s done! My energy was so overexcited that she promptly looked at me with those big bug eyes and ran out the doggie door. On New Year’s Eve morning I turned off the blinking “sanitized/done” light while I waited for my coffee to brew.
Fast forward to last night, New Year’s Eve. I began to clean up before heading to bed-- because, like having clean underwear in case you get hit by a bus, you must have a clean house in case you die in your sleep.
No one wants to be judged after death. Least of all me.
Adding to my “getting ready for bed” list is a whole new behavior of seeing my home through the eyes of my bereft family and friends. Imagining their (suddenly) unkind and judge-y comments.
“I had no idea she had this many sets of dishes. How much dinnerware does one girl need? And silver service for (36)! Who polished all that silverware? Forget the dishes, did you see her clothes? All those tank tops? Why would anyone need so many black tank tops? And black sweaters? And black shoes! Did she have a secret career as a mourner for hire?”
“What about all those lightbulbs? Did she have an Etsy store for 20-year-old lightbulbs? Why so many batteries? Also, the LED lanterns, you know she never went camping. Those lanterns could light the block. Why did she need such bright light? Look in here--look at all these winter coats? I don’t recall ever seeing her wear a winter coat. Look, this one still has its tag on!”
My ghost would be going crazy, trying to justify and explain all my “stuff”. Stop judging me! That coat was for Boston, but travel got cancelled, remember? And the beautiful dishware was my mother’s and grandmothers’…family heirlooms, I could not part with it. And the tank tops were on sale. And the black sweaters were cashmere, try one on. They feel like a luxurious warm hug. And the lanterns were in case of a power failure, or an earthquake. I had no idea they were so bright but I’m glad they were. They took my whole house out of darkness. And they outlasted me. Just as promised, a lifetime of light.
The judges continued, eyebrows raised high. “Why so many vacuum cleaners? A Miele, a Black & Decker dust buster from 1990 AND a new cordless state of the art vacuum cleaner, with a million fucking attachments.”
Yes! My ghost whispers loudly, I could vacuum my whole house, including every kind of flooring surface, and the long attachment slides under the refrigerator, soft attachment on a long attachment arm dusts the ceiling. HEPA filter keeps it all contained. Plus, an extra battery. It was so light and portable. From my friends at Amazon!
The Judging continues. “Did you see all her linens? Was she running an Airbnb? I thought she cleaned out the place in 2019? Look at all the purses still here. And the shoes. And the scarves. Her poor children will have so much work to clean this out.”
My ghost is flipping out. Poor children? No, they are far from poor! And you are all supposed to take something. A sweater, a scarf, a purse, a vase, a candy dish. Some art. Make a donation in my name to MBC Research. My ghost flies around and around, creating a tornado of chaos! Trying to get their attention and remind them my wishes. It’s hard to break through to all the bereft.
So, last night, the last night of 2020, in getting ready to be judged in case I accidently die in my sleep, I began to tidy up the kitchen. Rinsing dishes from the day. I open the dishwasher, which by my (old) standards was practically empty, and without much thought I began loading dishes. And then much to my horror, I realized that I just loaded dirty dishes on top of clean dishes!
But it’s not really my fault, although my inner critic circle is sure chatty, laughing and saying that’s what you get for trying to change a perfectly good obsession. Why’d you run the dishwasher after just two days of dishes, it was at least 1/3 empty? My inner critics circle was harsh. And laughing at me! Those meanies. And I’m feeling so stupid, right after I was so proud of myself.
Hey Inner Critic Committee, I silently shout, leave me alone, go away. I don’t need your voice on this. So what if I loaded dirty dishes on top of clean dishes? I will just run it again. No one will ever know. And even if I do accidently die in my sleep, the Post-Death Judges will be so impressed with the Jenga-style dish loading they will have no reason to judge me poorly!
Here’s to 2021, may we be less judgey and more kind, to ourselves and to one another.