The Dishwasher Parable
I rinsed away my bitterness with the remnants of dinner.
As my day comes to an end, I rinse the dinner dishes and stack them in the dishwasher just so. The thoughts running through my mind sound something like this: When will I get to sit down? We should strictly use disposable dishes. When are they going to invent disposable pots and pans? Why does it appear that I am the only person in the house able to load or unload the dishwasher?
Today is Monday, it’s been a slow start to the week for me. I awoke just before six to the unrelenting demand for breakfast from one of the cats, then dosed until seven. I had my coffee and made my husband oatmeal.
After I ushered him out the door to start his day around eight, I sat down to do some work remotely. By nine-thirty, I was in the shower and getting ready for the remainder of my day. When I finished up, I continued to work until it was time for lunch!
Around noon I met up with my husband; Meeting for lunch is a daily ritual for us, one that somehow began in 2013. Today we tried a new food truck — it was fabulous! I got a burrito with beans, rice, avocado, cilantro, and cheese.
Not long after I returned home from lunch, I readied myself for the gym. For the last two months, my adult son and I have been going to the gym five days a week to spend 40-minutes each time on the elliptical machine. The only opportunity to talk is before and after our workout, but it’s nice to have that time together.
By the time we return from the gym, it is already two-thirty. Yesterday, I purchased fresh peaches, so today I’m making my husband his favorite pie. We’re calling it a late Father’s Day treat! I was too swamped with deadlines to make it on Father’s Day proper. Better late than never!
While I waited for the peaches to bathe in the sugar mixture for an hour, I picked up around the house and hung a group of vintage prints we recently purchased at an estate sale.
Once I had the pie in the oven, I showered and sat down for the weekly online instruction of my two summer courses that end this week — just before my next two begin the following week. As usual, even during the summer, I have a full course load.
In the blink of an eye, it’s five o’clock, and my husband is home. We settle into our evening routine — him with his sweet tea, me with a glass of Pinot Noir. He read the news while I finished up an assignment then excused myself to start dinner.
I threw together Trader Joe’s Orange Chicken, fried rice, and a salad. Those two claim it is fabulous. Chicken isn’t a part of my diet, I had falafel. Now that is yummy! As delicious as it all was, someone must clean up the aftermath. That someone is me if you were wondering.
I unload the dishes from the night before and begin rinsing and loading the ones from tonight. I am recounting my day when I realize I still have a few things to finish before I can move on to projects that are not a requirement — Like this article.
Then, as if someone whispered it in my ear, I thought about how much it would suck if I had to wash the dishes by hand. Loading the dishwasher only takes a fraction of the time required to pre-rinse, wash, rinse, dry, and put away! Why am I complaining?
That is how the dishes got washed when I was a kid — manually! No one I knew had a dishwasher when I was growing up in the late ’70s, early ’80s. Even though the dishwasher was invented in the late 1800s, it hadn’t caught on in our rural community yet.
Everything was a little more time-consuming back then. I can’t imagine the time spent just cooking and cleaning! It was 1983 before anyone I knew even had a microwave! Can you imagine not having a microwave?
I spent much of my childhood with my great aunt or with a lady I called Maw. Both of these women were incredibly busy, but I cannot recall one complaint. They cooked meals from scratch, from the food they grew or slaughtered themselves. They canned, sewed, hoed the garden, took care of their spouse, kids, kids of kids, community responsibilities, and much more!
Suddenly I remembered crawling up on a chair at a very young age, carefully taking each dish and rinsing them before laying them on a towel to be dried. Then some years later, I was promoted to dishwasher!
As I took this little trip down memory lane, I happily finished my task with a greater appreciation of the modern conveniences and the efforts the women endured before me. I’m busy and tired, but my day was a relative breeze comparatively. However, my question remains; Why am I the only person in the house who can load and unload the dishwasher?