A year and a half ago our dishwasher got put out to pasture. It joined the microwave, the oven, the refrigerator, the washing machine, the dryer and the toaster oven. It wasn’t by choice. Peter spent years keeping all the appliances operating. After watching many YouTube videos and reading repair manuals, he had to say “Uncle” after all seven quit within two weeks of each other.
Each month or so after, an item got replaced. The first being the dishwasher. Its arrival was quick and its subsequent problems were immediately apparent. A leaking dishwasher means the floor in front of it is cleaner than the rest of the kitchen.
Despite a repairman’s assurance that it would be replaced, Peter spent the last 17 months on hold or getting ghosted by the company.
I wish I could say that living without a dishwasher changed our lives or gave us a new appreciation for water conservation, but it hasn’t.
It did however magnify some water related differences between us.
I’m quick in the shower. I can count on one hand the amount of times I’ve let the water drum pleasantly on my back long enough for the steam to open my pores.
“I can’t wait for a long, hot shower” is something I’ve never said. Just standing there is tiresome. Regardless of years of yoga, I don’t feel like being in the moment in some places.
It’s the same in a bathtub. The idea of reading a book in a mountain of bubbles sounds good, but I have to keep my toes pointed and pressed against the faucet end so I don’t submerge. It’s not relaxing.
Perhaps I’m subconsciously conserving our natural resources.
Peter enjoys a long hot shower. He says it prepares him for the day. I prefer the crossword puzzle.
I’m efficient at washing dishes. Peter is meticulous.
(I would have worked well on a chuck wagon. Give me some sand and scrub grass and we’re good to go.)
I load up the drying rack as if building a house of cards.
When the high rise of plates, glasses, cups, and utensils gets too precarious, I spread a towel on the counter and put pans, pots and vases atop.
“How come when you do the dishes there’s never a sprawl like this?” I asked the other day.
“That’s because I dry the things that won’t fit on the rack and put them away,” he answered.
It’s taken 18 months to realize that he also places the spoons face down as they are drying. Well that’s interesting.
It’s funny how we continue to learn or notice things about each other when and where we least expect it. Sometimes it’s a pleasant surprise, and sometimes it’s astonishing.
Rumor has it that the replacement washer is arriving shortly. That means I will dutifully fill it and then see how fast it takes Peter to do some rearranging.
Namaste- soon Peter gets to rinse, stack the machine and put it all away!
Alexandra Langstaff 