We’ve lived in our house for almost seven years and have never had a dishwasher (or as Jake is prone to say to guests while pointing to me, “What do you mean we don’t have a dishwasher?” A laugh riot, that guy!)
In fact, now that I think about it, I have NEVER had a dishwasher in my adult life. I have only ever washed dishes by hand. Yet somehow I still find the will to live.
It’s why I occasionally break out the paper plates when guests come over because I can’t stand doing a mountain of dishes like some wretched scullery maid.
So imagine my surprise after dinner at a friend’s house last night when I opened her dishwasher to load a cup and discovered she uses her dishwasher as a snack drawer.
It took everything in my power to resist playing the poor, deserving schlub to her fancy Marie Antoinette who probably lights $20 bills on fire for fun. Thankfully, my inherent schlubby goodness and wholesome values kept me in check.
One day I will have a dishwasher. I will. I WILL. And you can bet I’m going to wash the heck out of some dishes! And probably chips too.