Dish Washer Blues

It’s no secret that I am total doofus when it comes to technology; the digital clock on my old microwave was flashing 12:00  for the past four years.  Yes, it’s true, I approach new technology the way most people approach someone with a communicable disease.  Back in my old bachelor paradise, I had successfully managed to eliminate most things that either required me to ‘set’, ‘program’,  or ‘format’  them it in any way.  In the cases where it was simply unavoidable, such as my computer, I had a special ‘guy’ on call to do all the dirty work for me whenever it was necessary.  Yes, life was sweet as it was easy.  But now a new damnable devise has been reluctantly inserted into my life…the dishwasher.

“Control tower, this is Red Leader. Permission requested to initiate rinse cycle. Over…”

I swear this thing was sent by the gods to torment me much like the classical harpies that were sent to plague poor King Phineus.  Except, instead of stealing my plates of food, it mercilessly taunts me with its flashing lights and annoying alarms and multiple beeps and whistles; it’s like having a spastic R2-D2 in the kitchen.  Seriously, you practically need a PhD in advanced Mechanical Engineering just to operate this newfangled contraption.  Remember, I can barely use the TV remote so this thing scares the bejesus out of me!  The front panel alone looks like the cockpit of a Boeing 747 and I feel the immediate need to radio the control tower for instructions.

It’s ridiculous!

Then there’s the other whole can of worms when it comes to the actual loading of it.  This in itself is on par with the Twelve Labors of Hercules.  Sure, Hercules managed to slay the Hydra, coral the man-eating mares of Diomedes, kidnap the Hound of Hell, and steal Zeus’s golden apples, but heaven help him should he ever have to successfully load the dishwasher to my girlfriend’s satisfaction.  That would have sent him backpedaling in fear for sure!

I knew my sweetheart was a bit OCD already but, HOLY SHIT WOMAN!   Seriously?  Loading this thing is how I figure the last few final stages of Tetris must be like.  And I thought HRH’s  bedtime ritual was hard to fathom!  Check this craziness out:

Exhibit A

Exhibit B

I half expect her one day to greet me in the kitchen with a sink full of dirty dishes ready to issue me a random pop quiz on ‘Dishwasher Loading 101’.

“Okay…pop quiz, hot shot!”

God help me!

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1 Comment

  1. My husband can’t load a dishwasher to save his life either. It’s so annoying, and any day now there will be Dishwasher Loading 101 in the Hardy household. Instead I just complain, but I think a formal lesson must happen to drive the point home. There will be a pop quiz.

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