Our dishwasher stopped washing dishes. While I think we're all entitled to some time off now and then, the dishwasher far exceeded any reasonable time off accrual so we called in a repairman who said that we needed a new pump or motor or something or other. He's due sometime this week with the new of the whatever it is he's going to replace for half a grand or so. In the meantime, we've been washing dishes by, you know, hand in water.
Here's the funny thing.
I'm enjoying not having a dishwasher. Of course, we haven't invited hordes over for dinner so clean up has been fairly simple. There is something to be said aside from saving electricity for doing dishes by hand. Things slow down, for one thing. Standing in front of the sink scrubbing plates gives a person time to think. It also gives people time to visit. I suddenly remembered conversations with my mother or an aunt while drying dishes. For example, my Aunt Jackie said, after I observed that my mother had missed a spot on a plate, that one of the jobs of the dish dryer was to clean up after the dishwasher. Not world changing wisdom, I admit, but just a memory of a simple conversation.
We haven't I must admit been drying the dishes during the past few days. We dug out the old wooden drainer and there it sits on the counter. It's pretty. It's simple. I like it. And there's something about seeing the steam rise off of dishes just put in the drainer that speaks of old fashioned got it clean simplicity.
Yeah, we'll get the dishwasher fixed and, of course, we'll start using it again. And, yeah, I will grumble when it's my turn to empty it. I don't know why but I find emptying the dishwasher a most onerous household chore. And yet I find emptying the drainer after once or twice a day completely satisfying.
I'll doubtless yearn for the wooden drainer until, of course, we invite our first horde of guests over for dinner. Then I will do a quiet tap dance of thanksgiving that we live in the modernity of electric dishwashers.