The Joy of Washing Dishes

Few household Chores have had such a profound impact on me such as washing Dishes. I am a husband, father to 3 and the resident of a one bedroom shack of an apartment in an otherwise glitzy and glamorous City. Accountant and Musician, Blogger and avid reader, but as fate would have it, my passion for washing dishes are yet to be reconciled with all these credentials mentioned above.

There is something magical about the Sink in our Kitchen. I am a wannabe-handyman myself, having opened up the clogged drains to let out the stinking and unholy sludge of food remains, the sink and the washing apparatus still holds its charm on me. At the end of a long and tiring day at office or child rearing at home or gigging and concerts or elsewhere, the act of cleaning leftover food from dishes with soap and water brings about to me what the rich get from golfing and the poor from cheap wine. It is the perfect unwind for a busy day.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not so passionate about all Household Chores. Like hanging clothes out to dry. Or taking out the trash. Even a great dish washing experience comes with some prerequisites. Like not having Children hang on to you legs while washing, or the first appearance of Dishes piled into the Sink. Nothing frustrates me more than having to reorganize all the dirty Dishes in the sink. Let the dishes be where they are – on the stove, upon the Microwave, on the Kitchen table etc. The Sink itself needs to empty in some way, welcoming and ready to receive the washing one by one. Having said that, if circumstances are not perfect, I would have to just suck in my discontent and to carry on about the real task at hand.

Hot Running water is heaven on a cold day, and vice versa. Almost scalding hot water is also great for dislodging solidified oil on pans and plates. Sometimes when the dough has been fried in or we have some stick ash situation, I make good use of some steel wool. Feeding Bottles need a Feeding Bottle cleaner which can also double up as a brush for cleaning up sieves and tea strainers. I take my time, one plate at a time, like how an artist would paint a picture, how a musician would play his notes. Strange for another, but not me – the fuzzy soap suds and the warm splashing water on my calloused hands are more pleasurable than any spa experience. Not that I’ve been to any, but you get the idea. Clanging Pans, and giggles of the glasses. Gentle handling of China. I even take special care not to let the leftover debris go into the drainage, I use my hands to clean them up from a filter I’ve installed prior, handyman that I am.

With every wash, I stack the pots and pans on the plastic stand beside in a careful balance. They stand fixated as if alive, gleaming with the new-found glory. Scrub down the Sink, Kitchen Counter and mop up the water that’s spilt on the floor below till I’m done.

And when I’m done, I take two steps back and admire the handiwork of the dishwasher par excellence, yours truly.

A work well done, happy and contented, I now can retire to my wife and children with the bliss knowing that my washed pots and pans are warm and resting for the night to awake to another bustling day just like me, just like everyone else.

PS: Washing your dishes in your kitchen is a kind offer I’m going to refuse. Thanks anyway.

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