Monday, May 16, 2011
Another potential topic for debate, by which I mean heated argument nearly leading to fisticuffs, is the proper procedure for loading the dishwasher. I've recently learned that there is more than one point of view on this. In my experience, most household appliances are named for their function. For example, a food processor is for processing food, the cheese grater is for grating cheese, and the wooden spoon is for disciplining your children. Using my Sherlock Holmesian powers of deductive reasoning, I came to the conclusion that our Whirlpool 1000 Series SheerClean Tall Tub Built-in Dishwasher was for washing dirty dishes.
Clearly, that was where I went wrong.
According to the International High Priestess of Dishwashing who, because I don't want to sleep on the couch for a week, shall remain nameless, no dish, glass, fork, bowl, plate, knife, spatula, spoon, mug, or especially pot with burned chili crusted all over it God-dammit should be put in the dishwasher unless it has been thoroughly washed first. To me, this is ridiculous because dishwashers are expensive and therefore I am not going to do their job for them. The dirtier the dish the better, is how I look at it.
We have a policy in our house that states, "Whoever is responsible for dirtying a dish (defined as a plate, bowl, cup, utensil or other dishwasher-safe piece of cutlery), assumes the additional responsibility of loading it into the dishwasher." There are also sub-sections of the policy covering when to run the dishwasher and who's responsible for emptying it when the dishes are clean. The problem with this system, as you've probably figured out, is that the International High Priestess is the only one who bothers to follow it. The rest of us have a much simpler procedure, namely, the "put the dirty dish in the sink and the dish fairy will take it from there" method. It's a system that serves us well most of the time.
Which brings us to last night's events.
I was attempting to give the dish fairy a break by taking the dirty dishes from their comfortable resting place in the sink, and loading them into the dishwasher. As I was bending down to put a plate in the rack, the International High Priestess materialized out of nowhere and said, "You're not putting that in the dishwasher, are you?"
Remaining in my hunched over position, with one hand on the plate and the plate in the dish rack, I replied, "Why no, of course not. What ever gave you that idea?"
Sarcasm. Not just an attitude, a way of life.
"You know you can't put a dirty dish in the dishwasher."
"No, it needs to be washed first."
"Then what does the dishwasher do?"
"The dishwasher just finishes -- here, just give me the plate, let me show you. Again."
I handed her the plate and paid careful attention to the lesson that followed.
I thought to myself, The dishwasher? It's ready to be inspected by the U.S. Food and Drug Administration and used to serve dinner to the Boy in the Plastic Bubble. "It's not the difficulty, it's the pointlessness," I replied. "If you're going to run it through the dishwasher anyway, why go through the trouble of washing it by hand?"
In the end we agreed to disagree, which means she's right, I'm wrong, and we're all going to do it her way.
As long as she doesn't find out how I do the laundry, I'll consider myself ahead of the game.