Ellen Cushing combines personal anecdotes with expert insights to investigate the domestic battleground of the dishwasher. Are you a Tetris mastermind or a chaos demon when loading dishes? Either way, you will find something to relate to in this witty piece that somehow manages to make the world of dishwashing fascinating.
I am not what you would call “precise” or “tactical” in really any aspect of my life, but certainly not in front of an open dishwasher. I lack the structural engineer’s mind for space optimization, or maybe I lack the functional adult’s patience to figure it out. I don’t totally understand how the water moves around in there, or how the soap gets dispersed. (Also, because we’re being open and honest with one another, I have never been sure about prerinsing, though I do get the sense that the rules have changed recently?) I don’t have a philosophy about what should go on the top or the bottom—I basically just put things in the first semi-logical place I see, close the door, smash some buttons, and hope for the best. I walk away and hear my plates rattle.
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