Blondes Have More Fun, and Sometimes We're Kinda Dumb

I've never in my life, as an adult owned a dishwasher. Like most New Yorkers, I washed my dirty dinnerware the old fashioned way, or I just let everything sit in the sink, rotting, hoping that someone else would do them.

In my current apartment, I am lucky enough to have a dishwasher. For months, it sat, unused. I didn't know what the fuck to do with one, in fact, I think that Beehive actually had to show me how to load glasses vs dishes, and which rack to put everything on.

Once I got the taste of using it, I was hooked. Why wash silverware, which is THE most tedious task on God's green earth, when you could throw it all into a machine and let modern technology take over? Genius, absolutely genius.

The other day, after a 2O mile bike ride in the burning hot sun, I dragged myself to the supermarket specifically for dishwashing detergent. It had been a long time between washings, and I'd run out of forks. God forbid I just take one out of the rack and wash it by hand. Fuck that.

In a bit of a daze, I went to the dishwashing isle, and saw a bottle of lavender flavored liquid. It excited me that I could have my glasses and such smell like a field in provence, so I nabbed it and got myself home.

Three days later, I'm finally doing my dishes. I poured in the soap, turned the dial, kicked back with the remote and relaxed.

Igby suddenly became obsessed with the corner of the kitchen. He seemed excited, like he had seen a mouse. I got up to see what the hubbub was all about, and this is what greeted me



I checked the detergent bottle.

I guess THIS is what happens when one uses dishwashing soap in a dishwasher...dishwashing soap that says on the bottle "not for use in dishwashers".

Oopsie.

Well, four towels later, my dishes are spotless, and so is my wood floor. It's a mighty invention, that dishwasher.