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Anatomy Lesson

I’m not anal. I can let things go. I no longer care which way the paper towel or toilet paper faces when it’s in the holder.  If towels are folded neatly and fit in their assigned place, I don’t care if they’re folded long way or short way first. I’m learning to ignore the twenty-three PAIRS of shoes (do the math; it’s a staggering number), scattered around the front and back doors.

A well loaded dishwasher is a thing of beauty.

Now for the anatomy.  Not as in human anatomy; it’s not going to be that fun. Not as in “anatomy of a murder”; it’s not going to be that exciting. I’m talking dishwasher anatomy– not fun or exciting, maybe, but crucial.

Seven people live in this house (fondly known as my bubble). SEVEN. Three meals per day per person on average. Cups and glass usage expands exponentially for those of us under the age of forty.  On a typical day, the dishwasher is run twice. That is— if I’m loading it.  If I’m not the person loading, the number rises to an water-meter-spree of three or four times a day.

The purpose of loading a dishwasher seems obvious to me: to fit in as many dishes as possible, in a way that ensures they all get cleaned.  Unfortunately, this logic has failed to impress itself on others in this family.

Putting the large pot where glasses belong (keep in mind the large volume of glasses used), seems a glaringly inefficient use of prime space. Putting a Tupperware lid in the optimum frying pan space also seems obviously WRONG. On the other hand, stacking three cups on top of each other may allow more dishes to be stuffed in, but the consequences are disgusting. The level of annoyance displayed by certain people in this family, on finding a dirty glass in the cabinet is ironic.

Is this the best you can do? Really?

Am I the only person in this house that can look into the dishwasher and know intuitively how to load it? I can’t put together a jig-saw puzzle, but I can load a dishwasher. I’ve tried to teach this skill to others, but it is usually met with eye rolling or “I know how to do it better than you.”

I’m not alone in my zeal for a well-loaded dishwasher. The first three minutes of the following clip will explain:

I’m thinking of contacting Bill Engvall’s wife (my hero). Together, we could lead the crusade against poorly loaded dishwashers, and save the world’s water supply.

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8 comments on “Anatomy Lesson

  1. I;ve come across this phenomena before. It’s amazing how loading the dish washer can generate such heat. You are not alone. I load mine butfear it would not be up to your standards. Best of luck with this

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  2. Oh! To have a dishwasher! 🙂

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  3. I never had a dishwasher until I had been married for ten years with bunches of kids. I was always scared to load them for someone else, even when I wanted to help clean up! It took me a while to navigate ours, but once I figured out the best way to fit everything it seemed so simple! Turns out it’s only simple in my eyes, no one else in my house can figure it out either, Dawne. My husband won’t even try anymore, he CLAIMS I’ll give him a hard time about how he does it. I recently tried to teach my oldest son how to load it. I thought he had it, but when I checked back in on his technique a few days later, I was slightly… let’s just say I took the job back for myself. It’s just not worth it. :o)

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  4. There’s a frying pan SPACE? Who knew?

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