The Dishwasher

Dishes. Tons and tons of dishes massively piled in my sink.  Have you grown up hearing the glorious swishing sounds that the dishwasher makes?  Oh how I’ve taken for granted the gurgling and rumbling of that mysterious machine.  How does it all get clean in there really? There’s no way it’s just spray nozzles, heat and soap. No way.  I scrub, sweat, rinse, re-scrub, rinse dry…no, there is some force within the beast that arises once the “on” button isstruck. Perhaps like fruit flies, creatures just appear out of no where from inside and begin scrubbing and polishing every filthy fork, slovenly spoon, pungent plate, and bilgy bowl. Too late I have suddenly become grateful for the magnificent machine I once complained about loading and unloading.  Too late I have expressed my appreciation for what so many of my friends envied and threw nasty glances at as I carelessly loaded my family’s dishes smeared with crusty food refuse.  Too late.  Blood, sweat and tears


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