Thursday, September 12, 2013

best served cold, with extra rinse cycle

My dishwasher is in open revolt.

It refuses to clean anything.  Oh, it goes through the motions -- sprays copious volumes of water on stuff, spins its little arms around, keeps time as precisely as always -- but we both know that, from any serious standpoint, it's off the job.  And I'm afraid it might be permanent.

Now, it's never been the most cooperative worker.  Frequently I've found calcium deposits on the inside of my glasses after a thorough wash (though that's mostly the fault of our water, not the dishwasher).  But even beyond that, it's occasionally shown great obstinacy in facing our mutual foes, those darn dirty dishes.

There's a reason I care so much about this machine.  You see, the wife long ago grew tired of constantly harassing me to clean this or that around the house.  I am not a man much interested in doing the work of keeping things clean.  Do I like clean environs?  Of course!  But I'm too busy thinking up my next big creative project to spend my time on such mundane trivialities as picking up after myself.

Believe it or not, this has caused some conflict in my marriage.

In the end, she couldn't take it anymore, and we came to a compromise; I would help out, occasionally, here and there, but doing the dishes would be my sole responsibility.  I would keep them done.  And done.  And done some more.

Oddly, it seems that as soon as this became the arrangement, our dirty dish output went up dramatically.  But I'm sure that's just in my head.

What's important is that, as long as I've kept up with the dishes, our place has been clean enough for her tastes.  Of course, she's doing most of the other housework, but her job keeps her less busy than mine does, and I make more money, so it seems pretty fair.

Except.  With our dishwasher slowly giving up the ghost, the dishes began to pile up.  I found myself having to do some dishes by hand (yeesh).  This situation is simply untenable.  Now, the dishwasher still sort of works, but I anticipate we'll be getting a new one in a few days.  But...can I wait that long?

If I believe the dishwasher deserves to die, and die now, is it acceptable for me to take it to an early grave?  Would I be culpable for its later crimes if I allowed it to live a minute longer?

I'm torturing myself over here, guys.  Give me some guidance.  I am on the verge of murdering my dishwasher; ripping its guts out and spilling them onto the floor, into a mix of gears, plastic, abandoned detergent, and unrecognizable foodstuffs.  These dishes will not wash themselves anymore, and I can't bear to go on.

For this reason alone, I am the most unfortunate man in the history of creation.  Wish me luck that I might survive the coming days.  And if I decide to fight this ornery dishwasher, and I lose, and you find me drowned in a soapy soup of my own creation, remember me as a man so dedicated to getting out of housework that he would sacrifice himself in fruitless battle against an inanimate object to avoid having to wash a single dish by hand.

That'd make a really sweet epitaph, either way.

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