Why I love dishwashers so much

So, yesterday when I found the box of unexpected, bonus Valentine's Day flowers, I was saying goodbye to the handyman. Or rather, to my landlord's two handy men, Dave and Mike.

Dave and Mike were here to install a new dishwasher, the old one having finally stopped working. It wasn't that old, but over the past year, it had developed a mold problem that could only be dealt with by running bleach through it frequently, the spring in the door had broken so that the door crashed to the floor every time it was opened unless you remembered to gently lower it to the ground, and most recently, it had started to leak and the plumber couldn't figure out why which led to having to put a dishtowel on the floor to catch the water every time we ran the thing. Then, one fine morning when the air was crisp and the sunlight danced over the trees, it ceased to work altogether, giving one last final shriek of grinding gears before passing into silence.

Our Wonderful Landlord agreed to get a new dishwasher. But there was a small issue, having to do with the house being over 100 years old and the kitchen not much newer than that, that caused a few weeks delay. This has meant that we've been hand washing the dishes.

Now, hand washing dishes is nothing new. I grew up with six siblings and once you've hand washed the dinner dishes for nine people for one week every month (the older kids rotated the chores), you pretty much know how to deal with a stack of dirty dishes.

There are only two of us here, me and the Awesome Roommate. We each pretty much clean up after ourselves, so compared to washing dishes for nine people, the few minutes of swishing a suds-filled sponge around is nothing.

The real reason I love dishwashers is not because they wash the dishes. The real reason I love dishwashers is because they hide the dishes. You notice this most on weekends, when you are home for all three meals and probably some snacks. Slowly, the sink fills with the breakfast cereal bowl, the morning tea mug, the orange juice glass, the bowl that held the mid-morning yogurt, the plate that held the slice of pumpkin bread, the 10 am coffee break mug, the pan that warmed the lunch-time soup, the wooden spoon that stirred the soup, the soup bowl, the spoon, the bread plate, the butter knife, the milk glass. And that's by 1 pm. And if you've been baking or cooking meals for the week ahead, there are measuring cups and mixing bowls and knives and spoons and pots and pans and cooling racks and who-knows-what cluttering up the place.

Unless you want to be snapping on those rubber gloves four or five times a day to wash the dishes, the sink and surrounding counter top get messy looking really, really fast. While there are people out there who wash every dish, cup, mug and bowl immediately, I am not one of them. Twice a day seems to be my maximum limit for dish washing.

So I am absolutely thrilled to have a functioning dishwasher again. All those dishes just glide into the dishwasher, to remain hidden from sight until they are sparkling clean again. And since the dishwasher only gets run every two or three days here, we are probably saving water, as well.

I ran the new dishwasher last night. It looks very much like the old one, but it is Energy Star and it is much quieter than the older model. It did a great job on the dishes, even removing the remnants of the lip balm I wear all the time--the old one didn't and I had to handwash some of the glasses and flatware to get rid of it.

My unexpected bonus Valentine's roses are slowly opening out and the scent is quite lovely. There's a new dishwasher in my kitchen. Yesterday was a good day and today is shaping up to be a good day as well. The sun is shining, my dishes are clean (and I didn't have to clean them!) and the scent of roses lies upon the air. Worse things have happened.