My dishwasher broke last night. The handle came off in my hand, the locking mechanism is toast. The more tragic thing? The thing was FULL. I pride myself on really filling that beotch before I run it. Saves water and energy. Mostly my energy.

Mark suggested since I am a household of “one” (currently)  and a small dog that I go back to hand washing my dishes. I laughed heartily. When I was just starting out, and poor, and in my twenties, I hand washed. I put in my time. I’m not going back.

I stood for about 45 minutes in the kitchen holding the door shut on the broken washer to clean that full load. That’s how serious I am about not hand washing dishes.

Insane you say? Perhaps.

Dexter and I are heading to Lowe’s today to get the dishwasher of my dreams. Energy Star rated and that coveted Good Housekeeping Seal has been awarded to the model I’m about to purchase. A Bosch.

Mark’s response to this? “Merry Christmas Sweetie.”

That’s when you know you’re old. You get excited about major appliances.

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