Breakfast Letters: Dishwasher King Is Angry

At some point in the past weeks I must have angered the Dishwasher King. I have gone my entire life, or least since I was 7 loading and running dishwashers and have never had the problems I have encountered in the past four weeks. Mother’s first dishwasher sat in an alcove of the kitchen near the stove. I had to roll it over to the sink, rinse the dishes, load it from the top, like a clothes washer and then attach a hose and nozzle to the sink faucet. I turned on the hot water and pressed a button and it did its magic.

Dishwashers have changed over the year and still I learned how they were different and kept on loading and running and them. Or could until four weeks ago.

If you read my last Breakfast Letter you will see that I had an incident with the dishwasher. That was in the old shack. Now I am in a new place and last night I cleaned up after my dinner, loaded and put a soap tablet in the dishwasher. I turned it on and went on about my business. This morning I open it up and get out a tea cup and saucer, a spoon which looks like it has not been cleaned and a cream pitcher which still is dirty. I stop in mid lift and look at the soap dispenser. There it is, the soap pod still alive and clinging to the dispenser lid for dear life.

Bloody Hell!! I have restarted the bloody thing and am wondering how I could be having these troubles.

But wait! If this is the trouble, I am having than I will welcome it gladly because there are far worse troubles I could be having. Stop and think about that. To grab and ancient phrase it “blows my mind”. I could be the 6^th wealthiest single woman in the world and dating men; all the time wondering who loves me for me and who is loving me for my money? I could have just been fired from my job or my script of Xanax fell into the toilet and I am in Tanzania. Yes, I will take the Dishwasher Trials.

Did you notice I mentioned above that I have moved? New flat, new year, new adventure. I am excited, renewed (or will be once I am rested up from the past three weeks of packing, moving and unpacking.) On paper the square footage is smaller but this place feels larger and roomier and was built in this century. Not that I have a problem with old buildings and places. The ceilings are high, I have wood flooring and can use my Parisian rug

(which as you may recall I believe used to be in the home of Coco Channel), the bathrooms are huge, the closet is huge, the refrigerator makes ice. There is a microwave and best of all… I have hot water!! Yes, and my own water heater. Not a boiler room where the housing authority dictates how hot the water can because schools no longer teach Home Economics and three generations of ignorant girls apparently burn their babies.

People, I have valet trash service. Some of you may think that sounds naive to be excited about and some of you may have no idea what I am talking about. I set my assigned trash bin outside the front door along with any broke down boxes and in the evening the staff, who surely worked at Disneyland make it all disappear. My empty bin awaits me in the morning.

There is no trash lurking outside of dumpsters, or blowing down the street or littering up the parking lot, I am not even sure there is a dumpster here. I have never even seen a garbage truck.

Now on to more serious stuff. I am torn about a shower curtain. Go for some clinical spa inspired white waffle thing,