The dishwasher in the new house does not work very well. So much so that I requested a new one from my landlord. She has agreed to buy one (she used to live in this house, so I am guessing she can feel my pain) however, it hasn’t arrived yet. I’ve been using the crappy dishwasher as storage for dirty dishes, then each night I do most of them.
Washing dishes by hand is a lost art. I had to show my kids the system. You either fill one sink with hot, soapy water or you wash each one under the stream of water, depending on how many there are. At least that is how I go about it. Then there is the drying. If you have two people, it’s easy to wash, rinse and dry, but if it’s just me, I let them air dry on a towel, on the counter. Well, as many dishes as can fit anyway. There’s very little counter space. (I mentioned to y’all, this house is tighter. I was not lying.)
The process of washing every single dish gives me plenty of time to think, longer than I have while loading a dishwasher, that’s for sure. Also, I actually really look at each dish or piece of silverware, ensuring the food comes off of every prong on every fork. I scald my hands in the hot water but I figure that means they are really clean too.
The window above the kitchen sink looks out into the front yard, the driveway and the street. I look up to see the neighborhood cars drive by and beautiful butterflies gently land on the blooms of orange lantana, growing right outside. Sometimes I see neighbors walking their dogs or riding their bikes. The American flag hanging on the pole out front sill spooks me a little every time in blows in the breeze, since I think it’s a person or a bird. Then I realize again, it is just the flag.
The other day I insisted Gavin help me dry the dishes. Once he complied, we had a wonderful little conversation while we took care of the chore together. Those moments would not have been spent with him if the dishwasher was in working order. Sometimes we have to be thankful for the extra work if it means extra time spent with our loved ones. I made Ben help me one day too (I’m hoping soon they will learn to offer to help… this is going to happen, right?)
At this point I cannot decide if I want the new dishwasher or not. Yes, it takes time to hand wash each dish, but there is something about doing it the old fashioned way, which I quite enjoy. We are so spoiled these days, with the many automatic ways of doing things. Honestly, on the weekends when the kids are with their dad, there are only a few to wash anyway.
But then I think to myself, “Who am I really kidding!? This back-to-working full-time single mom needs a dishwasher!” This does not mean I cannot hand wash a few dishes occasionally, when so inclined. (And it’s not like I do not half-wash them before I put them in the dishwasher anyway…).
In the meantime I will continue to wash the dishes by hand. I may have a small celebration when the new, working dishwasher arrives, however, I may keep it a secret from the kids for a bit… (think they will notice?)
Lovely post. Taking the time to do a task like washing dishes is a welcome break from the pace of life. I often wonder how much less I could live with if I embraced the simpler things in life like washing dishes.
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My kitchen sink overlooks the backyard. When the kids were younger (well, Z still goes out back), I’d watch them play with the window open while hearing crickets and tomato-stealing squirrels. Something about the breeze from the tree and the slowness of dish washing is so calming. I’ve lost myself more than once, staring outside, thinking about who knows what, with my hands in soapy water going from hot to cold. I love that your kids get to experience something as mundane as dishwashing with you (and at least they’ll know how to do it if they’re ever faced with a dishwasherless space). Disclaimer: we don’t have a dishwasher at all so my kids don’t see it as a bonding moment. HA.
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