To be honest, doing the dishes is never high on my priority list, much to my roommates dismay. When I finally buckled down and did them the other day, I had a chance to cogitate about why it is, I'm not a fan of dishes in general.
I think it stems of deep distrust. Where did I develop this doubt? From my dependable Dad. I remember coming into the kitchen after he had done the dishes, and there would always be a stack of immaculate dishes sitting in an impectably straight stack in the sink. I used to think it was unnecessary, but come to my own apartment, with my own dishwasher, and I scrub and scrub and scrub before anything goes in the dishwasher. For my father and I, it seems, dishes aren't as easy as throwing them in the top and bottom racks of the dishwasher, it's about cleaning them to be "cleaned". Call me sick, I realize it's a bit obsessive-compulsive, but the older I get, the more I realize how right my Dad is. The dishwasher, is definitely dodgy.
Of course, this judgement isn't passed to all automatic cleaning appliances. After living in an apartment with my own wash machine, I am certain this was God's greatest gift to man. Thanks John E. Turnbull, for getting that party started.
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