Washing Our Dishes in Public

The dishwasher is a battle field it is official. In our house anyway. When i met my husband in Prague in 2004 i delighted in his laid back demeanour, his laissez faire attitude to the little problems in life. He could even laugh at himself and his foibles. However race forward 2 years later. Me the Brit now transplanted in rural West Virginia, picture me stacking the holy grail that is the dishwasher little realising that the keeper of the holy grail is going to vent his dish stacking wrath on me with gusto!

“What are you doing?’ I hear from behind me. “Doh!” I answer with my usual tact and diplomacy. “STACKING THE DISHWASHER” I say slowly as if talking to someone without all of their lights on. STACKING! STACKING! and yes he goes for it a third time just for maximum Shakespearean effect. I just stare at him as he then proceeds to rearrange my Daliesque style of stacking into a more Mondrian affair. That is STACKING he says smugly and with a huge fanfare of trumpets (honestly i heard them)waves his arms about in front of his handy work. There is a deafening silence. Then I hear the dog shifting on his bed and amble slowly towards the object of all of our attention. He plonks himself down in front of the Holy Grail and proceeds to lick ice cream off and now very anally retentively stacked bowl. “Well he’s impressed” i utter under my breathe at which point Keeper of the dishwasher does an about turn and shouts “DOH”!

Suffice to say i have been assigned to lesser duties in our household but happily so. I married a dishwasher stacker extraordinaire something else i can add to the list when we go to our marriage counsellor. Oh and don’t get him talking about how i pack my suitcase. His is all knife edge pleats and mine is a nuclear explosion. Thank goodness that opposites truly attract!