Wednesday, June 16, 2010
The Domestic Goddess & The Dishwasher: A Cautionary Tale
Once upon a time there was a domestic goddess who lived in a cottage with no dishwasher. Unfortunately, it was a rental cottage, so she slaved away over a steaming sink full of dishes day after day. Some days this made her quite grumpy and a bit difficult, but she reminded herself there was a time when she had lived in Italy and didn't even have hot water in her kitchen.
Finally, one day she had a brilliant idea. She would make the landlady an offer she couldn't possibly refuse, because all would benefit. She and her husband would pay for a dishwasher, if the landlady would pay for the installation. The domestic goddess would be happy and would once again be able to grow decent fingernails, and the landlady would have an improvement in her property.
The landlady was quite pleased with this idea and the dishwasher was ordered, delivered and eventually installed. The domestic goddess danced and sang and was joyful every day. She had forgotten how such a simple appliance could make her life so much easier, and she was well pleased.
Then, one day she cleaned out the refrigerator and filled the dishwasher with plastic storage containers and decided not to use the "dry" cycle, as that might melt the plastic containers. When the dishwasher stopped, she opened the door so as to let the dishes air dry for a bit before she put them away. Having worked all day on domestic goddess domestic chores, she decided to make some popcorn and take a well-deserved rest. So, she walked into the kitchen, walked around the dishwasher door to retrieve the popcorn from the cabinet, walked back around the dishwasher door to put the popcorn into the microwave, and then started to walk back across the kitchen. Suddenly, with no warning, she was airborne!
In the split second it took her brain to realize she had exactly a split second to react, she managed to get one arm out in front of her, but then she felt her chin hit the floor and then her nose - BAM! Slightly dazed and with her tiara hanging precariously by a single bobby pin, she jumped up and quickly realized something was bleeding. Somehow, she managed to stagger to the bathroom where, to her horror, the mirror revealed a split lip and a chin that was quickly starting to turn purple. She was able to determine there was probably no major structural damage, but that chin needed frozen peas fast.
Over the next couple of hours, various body parts started to assert themselves and make it known they had not taken this incident lightly, including, but not limited to, the left wrist, arm, and shoulder, the right knee, the back, the neck, and the nose. To say nothing of her bruised ego. Domestic goddesses simply do not do full face-plants into the linoleum. At least not past the age of 10.
Upon reflection, while taking deep breaths and trying to calm herself, it occurred to the domestic goddess she had been saved grievous bodily injury by . . . uh, the “girls,” the “ta-ta’s,” “the chi-chi’s,” – yes, her own personal air bags. She remembered they had actually hit the floor first and most likely kept her from breaking her nose. And, miraculously, they seemed to be fine. She resolved to never again take them for granted and to finally find them a comfy bra with no underwire. That’s the least she could do to reward them for their bravery, quick action and self-sacrifice.
Her husband, upon returning home, took one look at her and demanded to know who had hit her. (Seriously, did he think she had gotten into a fight with the neighbors or in a brawl over broccoli at the store?) But, yes, that is exactly what it looked like - like someone had given her a quick upper cut to the chin.
After making sure the domestic goddess was not in need of medical attention, he looked at her lovely purple chin and declared she would be confined to the cottage for an indefinite period of time. It would simply not do for anyone to think he was responsible for the goddess’s Extreme Fighter/Warrior Princess appearance. He also instructed her to rest on the couch and he would do all the necessary fetching and carrying for a time.
The domestic goddess laughed and started to protest, but then decided she could use this proclamation to her advantage. If confined to the cottage, she wouldn’t be able to shop for groceries. If confined to the couch, she wouldn’t be able to cook, clean, or do odious and odorous piles of laundry. Within minutes, bags of frozen peas, a heating pad, a pillow, ibuprofen, cups of tea and dinner magically appeared.
And that is how the domestic goddess learned the true meaning of “every cloud has a silver lining.”
NOTE: This incident occurred last year, and I am fully recovered. I did eventually see the doctor, who prescribed muscle relaxers and sent me to physical therapy. I was under the impression I was to receive massage therapy, but that didn’t happen. Instead, I was put through my paces by a physical therapist three times a week for two months on various torture devices.
The moral of the story? Most accidents happen in the kitchen. Stay out of there.