How I Outwitted My Dishwasher

Take THAT, dirty dishes…


By Bob Fellman

Dishwashers have to be one of mankind’s greatest inventions. When I lived off campus in college, my two roommates and I did not have a dishwasher. Every time you needed a plate, you had to reach into the kitchen sink full of weeks-old scummy water and feel for one, taking care to do this quickly so as to not dissolve too much of your flesh off your hand and arm. Then you rinsed the plate off, shook it dry, and used it for your meal (always a sandwich). Then you repeated the process ad infinitum. If this seems disgusting, you should have seen our bathroom sink and tub…

Needless to say, none of us kept a girlfriend long once they had seen how we lived. Surprisingly, years after college, I spoke to a former girlfriend who told me that she had been most repelled by our kitty litter pan. And this despite the fact that my roommates and I took turns cleaning that litter box on a near-monthly schedule.

Why our cat felt the need to escape our apartment one day remains a mystery. I understand that the litter box did not always get cleaned on that near-monthly schedule because we would often spend days arguing about whose turn it was to clean it. But this minor inconvenience to the cat was more than offset by our apartment’s unlimited supply of mice upon which the cat had gorged himself obese.

Great as dishwashers are, they all present on a routine basis an annoying dilemma — but what do you do when you have just filled all the slots and you are holding one more dish to load? I am incapable of surrendering and waiting for the next load when I know that with just a little strategic rearranging of dishes I can make room for just one more dish. This attitude/arrogance may be the result of having been told by a high school guidance counselor that my aptitude tests showed my spatial skills to almost nonexistent.

The other day I had loaded the dishwasher and had no space to load my dirty Mickey Mantle beer mug. Since beer always tastes better in my M.M. beer mug — and we all know that a beer a day is heart healthy — it was time to prove those test makers wrong. I must have tried rearranging those dishes twenty times, with no success. I was going to go buy a pack of cigarettes to calm my nerves but, as lifelong nonsmoker, I finally, and with considerable inner debate, decided to give it one more try.

I started by lifting my wife’s very favorite wine glass that she bought on our last trip to England. As it slipped from my fingers, time itself slowed down and I saw that wine glass fall to the floor in slow motion, breaking into a hundred pieces. When I came out of my shock, I immediately realized what I had done. I think I actually said out loud to myself, “Bob, you idiot! What took you so long to find this simple solution?” No spatial skills, my behind.



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