Our dishwasher broke last Wednesday.
Wayne had loaded and started it after dinner. A little while later, one of the kids came running to alert me to the news: “Smoke is coming out of the dishwasher! And it smells! Bad!”
Wayne had stopped it right away, of course, and it quit smoking. He later told me that he thought the house might be on fire when he saw all the smoke. He was mentally preparing to grab the external hard drive and get us all outside! (I also would have wanted to grab the envelope of Vitally Important Papers and the binder with all Ben’s adoption paperwork, but thankfully that wasn’t necessary.)
The next morning I put in a maintenance request. We pulled the dirty dishes out of the completely full dishwasher and hand washed them all. It was kind of a pain, but I also had that sense of pride in a job done by hand, the old-fashioned way. I grew up without a dishwasher. Heck, I didn’t have a dishwasher until I moved to North Carolina when I was 26! I have kids who can help! We are not dependent on a silly machine!
Thursday and Friday went by with no word from maintenance. The kids were told to wash their own dishes as soon as they finished eating, and that kept things from piling up. I felt proud that the kitchen was staying clean during this crisis.
Maintenance finally showed up on Saturday morning. He said something about stripped wires, suggested they were a fire hazard (ya think?), pulled the power plug on it from below, and said he’d order a replacement for our dinosaur of an appliance, since parts are too hard to find for it.
And now it’s Friday. After more than a week of hand washing everything, I am feeling decidedly less virtuous and way more annoyed by the continuous hand washing of dishes. We’ve learned proper gratitude for the Modern Miracle of the Dishwasher, I promise we have.
The kids have gained valuable dish washing experience, with varying levels of enjoyment.
Yesterday morning Emma washed all the breakfast dishes without being asked. “It’s fun!” she claimed. “I don’t know why people don’t want to wash dishes. I like the bubbles.”
The housing office says the new one should be here by Monday. Or possibly Tuesday.
Let’s hope it’s Monday. Bubbles are overrated.