It is entirely possible that there exist people today who
have never washed dishes, but rather think of dishwashing as something that is
done by a machine which sits under your kitchen counter. Loading and emptying
are what’s done to everything used to prepare and serve food. I expect most
people think of the dishwasher as a time-saver, a useful appliance which takes
the drudgery out of a task, freeing us up to do other things — which according
to most advertising means spending “quality time” with our families.
But
perhaps the dishwasher does the opposite; it does not improve the quality of
life (of the person charged with the domestic chores) at all. Perhaps it takes
something valuable away: some quiet time at the end of the evening.
It used to be that our homes were our gyms; the amount of
calories spent simply doing chores — without modern conveniences — was easily
spent, keeping us (or our great-grandmothers) slim. But the exercise that
chores provided isn’t the only benefit. At the end of every evening, when I
stand at my sink and go about the routine of washing my dishes, I get a chance
to stand there and simply reflect on my day, unhindered (most of the time) by
children or the internet. The repetitive action of a task so familiar as to be
automatic is relaxing. When you do not own a dishwasher, you quickly develop a
method for clearing the table and washing dishes that makes sense in the way
that this 1901 instruction guide suggests.
The phrase “rhyme and reason” marries both logic with art.
Dishwashing — by hand, old school style — is a lovely bit of both. It’s not drudgery;
it’s what you make it.
