“Oh, no, I don’t need a dishwasher,” she would say. “I enjoy doing dishes.” And from the look on her face, glowing above the steaming suds, you couldn’t doubt that she believed that. Anyone who knows her would hold her up against boiling water and bleach as being better able to cleanse and clean than either (she is a bit, um, obsessed with cleaning).
But now, dearest MIL has a dishwasher, and though she still loves all things to do with cleaning, they are perhaps running second to her love of her dishwasher. “Oh Sarah,” she exclaimed the other night when I was there, “YOU need a dishwasher!”
I can’t help but nod and agree! But while a dishwasher is high on the wish list, this house has plenty of other things to keep me busy and hopping and planning and spending money. The piles of dishes probably wouldn’t really go down that much if I did have a dishwasher (and if that’s not true, then maybe I need to live in my delusion for a little longer, OK?). My expertise at procrastination and my need to focus on other things – cleaning would be a good start, actually – would probably not improve by the sudden insertion of a contraption to wash my dishes.
But it sure would make life nice, wouldn’t it? Maybe in another year or two…
We went for 25 years without a dishwasher, and when we finally got one, I used to go out into the kitchen at night when it was running, wrap my arms around it (it was portable), lay my head on it, and whisper, “I love you. I love you so much – thank you for being here.”