Monday, January 14, 2019


Out of order
There is no doubt we Americans are spoiled.
To a point that we no longer know just how
lucky we are. That is until our circumstances
change for the worse. On Christmas Day our
dishwasher broke. Leaving us not only with
a mound of dirty finery, but dish pan hands.
Fortunately our family pitched in and soon
it was all squeaky clean and put away. Yet
three weeks later our dishwasher still is not
working. All because of a missing link to
redemption that's still "on order". Meaning
that Frank and I have been up to our elbows
in soapsuds. And our bubble has been burst.
Liquid joy
In my memory, my parents actually considered
washing the dishes each evening to be a sort of
a bonding experience. Hence evert night they
stood together sink side and cleaned up their act.
Dad washed, Mom dried. And even after we got
a dishwasher, they continued to wash the dishes
before putting them into the machine for a rinse
cycle. Who knows what they talked about? All
I can recall is that they spent a half hour or so
immersed in conviviality. Thus while frustrated
with our lack of mechanical support - we tried
making dishing it out a special time each night.
One which sadly, neither has the patience for.
Double dipping
Our inability to dive in together is mostly my
fault. For the majority of my adult life I never
had to hand wash. I find the idea of scrubbing
and soaking rather tiresome. So I'm not fully
engaged in the process. All I want to do is get
it over with. Meaning that before Frank has
eaten half of his dinner - I start to clean up.
Leaving him to eat alone. However that's not
the worst of our compromised situation. You
see, if I'm totally honest I must admit that I'm
also not very good at it. Hence half the time,
Frank must re-wash my dishes a second time.
If at first Greg don't succeed, try, try again...
Back up plan
Hopefully our dishwasher is up and running by
the end of this week. However I'm not sure that
I won't miss taking a dip each night with Frank.
Hence I hope to find another way for the two
of us to bond on a nightly basis. Looking back
I realize that my parents leveraged their liquid
assets in more than one way on every evening.
Back in the day, they continued their private
chats behind closed doors while each of them
took their bath. Which has me thinking. Maybe
here's another way Frank and I can soak each
other for information. By scrubbing our backs
while the dishwasher does our dirty work!