All washed up

Last night, our dishwasher broke.

Normally, this wouldn’t be a big deal. Dishes don’t generally stack up in our house (I’m a use, rinse and load-right-away kind of girl). But I forgot to start the dishwasher before I left for work, then came home and started baking away. Next thing I knew, I had a full, unwashed dishwasher and a sink filled with bowls, measuring cups and whisks. Humph.

Long story short, the water squirter-upper is broken. Aside from the stream of lemony Cascade dripping down inside of the door, the dishwasher showed no sign of cooperation. Poor guy. He had a good many runs.

So I rolled up my sleeves, channeled my inner Caroline Ingalls (whom I channel any time I do something traditionally domestic without the ultra-modern conveniences) and spent a solid hour and half scrubbing pots and pans, plates and cups while my husband and puppy watched American Pickers. (Full disclosure: Jared did offer to help; I’m a bit finicky when it comes to dishes.) Here is what I learned while elbow-deep in suds:

1. I need to buy rubber gloves. Seriously, my hands are toast. Toast, as in they need lotion. Yowza!

2. Doing dishes by hand is much more satisfying than running the dishwasher (not to mention I can ensure that each plate is scrubbed to perfection). Maybe I was dazed by the bubbles, but I felt pretty accomplished by the time this whole ordeal was complete. Woo hoo to a finished task!

3. Dishes-doing is great thinking time. Just think of all the wonderful thoughts I could have thought if I had been doing this by hand all along? Have a problem/wash a dish! I should make a T-shirt!

Here’s hoping tonight’s round of dishes is as eventful as the last. And here’s hoping that dishwasher gets fixed soon.

XO,
Katrina