I just ran the dishwasher. That may not seem like something to write about, but this morning it seems to be. The light was blinking, letting me know that someone had interrupted its cycle, so I closed it tightly and pushed the button to ameliorate its urgent call. It made a slight moan in satisfaction, and started up in gusto, as if it were starting all over again. I envisioned all the dishes that were in it yesterday, and wondered if I ... I just ran the dishwasher. That may not seem like something to write about, but this morning it seems to be. The light was blinking, letting me know that someone had interrupted its cycle, so I closed it tightly and pushed the button to ameliorate its urgent call. It made a slight moan in satisfaction, and started up in gusto, as if it were starting all over again. I envisioned all the dishes that were in it yesterday, and wondered if I took out any spoons that were only half washed.As I listened to the wash cycle, I rinsed and organized the flotsam of cups and jetsam of bowls in the sink and on the counter. I planned to empty the dishwasher when it was done, and then very quickly be able to fill it with the neat pile of silverware, and the stacked bowls and plates. I have no problem working with dirty dishes, but for some reason emptying the dishwasher is something I dread. Knowing this, my husband does it when he can, and I have put that on top of my daughter's chore list. And cleaning the kitchen is a never-ending saga in our house. It is always an urgency on my list because I cannot stand putrid smells and little flying bugs.
A few weeks ago, there was a period of time when the kitchen never seemed to be clean, even for a few minutes. Day after day, every time I walked in there, it seemed to be a mess. Worse still, I believed that as a natural consequence there were tiny flying gnats taking up residence. I imagined they piggy-backed in on some bananas, so I cleaned up the fruit bowl. Yet, that did not help. Day after day, there were always a half-dozen flitting about. My husband has a way with slapping them dead on the first try, so he was often called into action.
When he was not around, I could not bring myself to squash them between my hands, so I thought of another seemingly more humane method. I pulled the vacuum into the kitchen, and it sat in the middle of the floor for the next two weeks. Throughout the day, you could hear the momentary whir of the vacuum cleaner as one of us would suck up an unwary gnat with the hose. The kids got pretty good at it. We envisioned the gnats happily living out their natural lives flitting about the dust cannister, never the wiser. But after a time, I was really confused. I had relegated all the fruit to the refrigerator, and the kitchen was back on its clean schedule at this point. In fact, I was scrubbing it daily. Where were these gnats coming from?
It was about this time that I was becoming aware of an odiferous presence in the garage, which is right off the kitchen. It smelled like the afterlife (at least the part that is left here on earth). I washed the kitchen towels, thinking there was something offensive in them, but that did not help. I asked my husband to investigate, since in this household it is the men who deal with garbage, bugs, and small dead rodents. He said he would look into it.
The next morning, he told me the story of the living things whose souls had left their earthly tissue for a better life. It was a pile of potatoes which he had stored in a dark cupboard in the garage. He found them rotted to black and full of all sorts of bugs, including a host of small, airborne gnats. He cleaned it all up, but said there is still a black stain on the shelf to memorialize the incident. He was leaving the next day for a two-week business trip, so it was a good thing he disposed of the mess before he left. I would have called him home on a family emergency.
So finally, we are gnatless. And I am vindicated as a homemaker. I can still say we have never had a roach, ant, or flying bug from a filthy kitchen in this house (truly the standard of excellence for a Messie). And this morning as I noticed the dishwasher finally displaying the steady blue light of completeness, I thought it was perfect timing as I had all the dirty dishes rinsed and organized alphabetically on the counter. I opened the dishwasher and pulled out the racks, with dishrag in hand. The steam fogged up my glasses so I had to wait a moment to see. What met my clearing vision provided my belly-laugh for the day. The dishwasher was completely empty, not a spoon to be seen. It was as clean and shiny as a new nickel. Oh well, at least I don't have to empty it.
