Eulogy for a household appliance.

When I posted on Saturday that I don’t seem to know how to have fun (rather than just a long chore list) on the weekends, I was forgetting a huge event that would be taking place on Sunday.

For on Sunday, we had the ceremonial farewell for our ten-year-old dishwasher.

Yes, it’s a PORTABLE dishwasher, folks – the endangered species of household appliances. Our minute kitchen dictates that this is the only type we can use. Happily, The Husband long ago re-plumbed the kitchen with another water line, so at least we don’t have to roll the old dear across the way to attach it to the sink one to four times each day, depending on how many family members are home. Finding a replacement was quite an adventure, but that’s a story for another post.

Today it is time now to bow our heads in reverence to the ancient and repulsive machine our family’s been struggling along with for so long.

…with its mysterious and nauseating fishy odor that occasionally emanates from its steam vents even when we hadn’t eaten fish…

…with its bit of faux-wood trim that pops up off the corner with regularity…

…with its grubby control panel, boasting two screws from time #47 when the husband took it apart to extend its life juuuuuussssst a little longer (cuz guess what? You’re not supposed to be able to access the inner workings of that control panel)…

…with its unintentional two-tone white/grossly yellowed cover…

…and last, but not least, with its mysterious patch of unidentifiable food goo at the inside top of the door. I swear I clean this spot weekly, and still it returns without fail to gag me…

Delivery of this workhorse’s replacement is scheduled for this morning. Whether or not this happy event will actually occur is left to the whim of a dying department store’s delivery system.