Breaking up is never easy

In some cases I would have to agree that "It is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all" but not in the case of a kitchen.

I wish I'd never known how it felt to fall in love with my upgraded self closing maple cabinets, to feel the smooth coolness of a solid granite countertop beneath my fingertips, to hear the dulcet tones of a garbage disposal, but most of all I wish I didn't know how it felt to be loved by a dishwasher. Having a dishwasher is something I wish I'd never taken for granted when I was in my last relationship with a kitchen.

You see, I'm now dishwasherless, and I miss my better half more than I can say. I've given up using the word "hate" so I shall just say that I have an intense dislike of washing up. There is nothing nice about leaning over a sink ( especially when you're 5'11" and your sink was installed in the 40s) up to the elbow in bubbles scrubbing away the food you just cooked from the dishes it seems like you only just washed. I've tried to improve the situation by buying delicately scented fancy looking dish soap, I wear frilly blue rubber gloves, and have a rather lovely drainer, but nothing can heal the emptiness I feel in my heart when I think of my old DW.

It's not like I can even replace the special little scrubbing machine either as my tiny little 1946 Burbank bungalow has yet to have a plumbing update and the kitchen has no allocated space for such a luxury. The other missing luxuries such as a garbage disposal, or a fridge with an ice maker, or tile that was...let's just leave it at tile, I can live without but I shall always be desperately seeking a kitchen with a dishwasher.

So people, learn to appreciate that little machine that without complaint loves and cherishes you and your dishes, in fact, go give yours a hug for me right now!