Washing Dishes

As a kid, I was a TV remote, telephone answering machine, and a dishwasher. I must admit, I rather resented performing these tasks at times, and I found myself both impressed and relieved when the new technology of TV remotes and telephone answering machines replaced me.

Dishwashers were another thing. They appeared in only a few new houses or were installed during a rare kitchen remodel. When we built our house in 1991, we purchased a new answering machine, a new TV with a remote, and installed a fancy new dishwasher.

Funny thing, I never took to using the dishwasher that much. I quickly realized the “pre-rinsing” we did might as well be a full-on washing. And all my years of washing dishes had rather programmed me into doing so. I didn’t resent it anymore. In fact, I came to like some aspects of it. The tactile experience, at times, was genuinely pleasant. The warm water felt good on a chilly day. I found myself enjoying the small puzzle of stacking plates and bowls and pots and pans to dry in gravity-defying constructs.

Yes, because I am Mitch, I sponsored a few crashing failures.

These days, washing dishes feels less like a chore and more like a quiet favor. Something simple I do for the house, or maybe for myself. It gives my hands something useful to do when my mind is idling. There’s a satisfaction in leaving the sink empty and the counter clear.

Decent stuff.

But if you want my TV remote, you’ll still need to pry it from my hands.

—Mitchell Hegman