Yesterday, I took a multi-day job supply teaching in a very energetic class and the first day is always about testing the limits of the supply teacher. I passed the test, but I was exhausted. Dominik and I got pizza (no dishes involved there) and went home to play till Jon got home from his dad’s. Then, mercifully it was time for bed…the dishes could wait.
I woke up late this morning and was further delayed by a phone call from the teacher I was filling in for to go over what I would be teaching that day. I managed to get three bowls washed before I left for work.
After a better day with the class, I came home with a smidge more energy than before and enjoyed a home cooked dinner with the boys. It was then that I saw it…the dishes could no longer wait.
Me: Who’s doing the dishes?
Dom: Not me! I wouldn’t do a good job.
Me: Good job, bad job, at least I wouldn’t be doing them. (Whining) I’m soooo tired.
Dom: I’m not doing them!
I heard a whisper “I’ll do them.” I looked down. Of course! The dishwasher! The love of my life (after my family, naturally). I quickly filled it, closed it, looked lovingly at it, and walked away to play with Dominik and Jon.
When I speak of my dishwasher to others, they concur, they couldn’t live without their dishwasher either. I could never take my dishwasher for granted. For five years, I lived with someone who felt that using the dishwasher was a sign of laziness, a failure. We had spent good money on a dishwasher and all I could do was look at her in wonder, a forbidden temptress, but the mocking I would receive when I succumbed to her was rarely worth it.
When I finally broke free, I moved in to a dishwasherless home. This was quickly remedied and I entered into a loving relationship. I admit, I still don’t use my dishwasher often, but it is with great love and appreciation when I do. There are certain things I never want to live without.