The Joy of Dishwashing
The big, old teakettle screamed mercilessly, alerting the sisters it was time. The supper table cleared, one washed and the other dried, alternating duties each day. This ritual began as soon as the youngest was tall enough to reach the sink.
Fast forward half a century. I slide my weathered hands into the hot, soapy water.
Thank you, Father JHVH, for running water, cold AND hot.
I think the vast majority of the US wouldn't be able to function if they couldn't just touch a handle and have a steady stream of hot water. Not until one has lived without it can one appreciate the luxury.
There's a method. Glasses are washed first, followed by kitty dishes (Churchill Blue Willow saucers, actually), plates, bowls, cups, and containers. The clean but still soapy dishes are waiting patiently in the right hand bowl of the sink. Waiting for the silverware to initiate the rinse.
It's amazing how many knives, forks, and spoons I can hold in my left hand. (This talent was refined years ago while working piecework in a knife factory, electro-etching the brand names on the bare blades. For the uninitiated, piecework means you get paid by the piece, so lots of money could be made if you developed speed along with accuracy.) Left hand filled, the silverware gets the rinse first.
I confess: I, too, have become complacent about water. The water runs freely as each item quickly gets a cold shower and lands in the rack to air dry. The day may come when water is too precious to waste like that, but for now, it is one of life's simple pleasures.
Parker, again. Boss of the sink.
Fast forward half a century. I slide my weathered hands into the hot, soapy water.
Thank you, Father JHVH, for running water, cold AND hot.
I think the vast majority of the US wouldn't be able to function if they couldn't just touch a handle and have a steady stream of hot water. Not until one has lived without it can one appreciate the luxury.
There's a method. Glasses are washed first, followed by kitty dishes (Churchill Blue Willow saucers, actually), plates, bowls, cups, and containers. The clean but still soapy dishes are waiting patiently in the right hand bowl of the sink. Waiting for the silverware to initiate the rinse.
It's amazing how many knives, forks, and spoons I can hold in my left hand. (This talent was refined years ago while working piecework in a knife factory, electro-etching the brand names on the bare blades. For the uninitiated, piecework means you get paid by the piece, so lots of money could be made if you developed speed along with accuracy.) Left hand filled, the silverware gets the rinse first.
I confess: I, too, have become complacent about water. The water runs freely as each item quickly gets a cold shower and lands in the rack to air dry. The day may come when water is too precious to waste like that, but for now, it is one of life's simple pleasures.
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