Portrait of the dishwasher of a young man

I just wanted to share with you all one of the not-so-minor joys of my life: my dishwasher.
This is not just some ordinary dishwasher, though dishwashers in general are right below the washing machine and microwave for the greatest inventions of the 20th century. I guess the refrigerator would have to figure in there somewhere as well, but even the car takes a back seat to the ability for me to put all my faith into a machine that washes dishes for me.

I never feel like dishes that are hand-washed by me are really, actually clean. As I put those dishes back in the cabinet, I feel a secret shame that people will assume in looking at them later that they were cleaned, when in reality they were merely wiped with soap and water until I couldn't see any more specks on them. The dishwasher, my friend, absolutely neutralizes all dirt and contamination at extremely high temperatures. Nothing is cleaner. Don't disillusion me, please.

Anyway, my particular dishwasher (a White-Westinghouse) is more than just a dishwasher-- it is an apartment-sized, portable, four-wheeled wonder that only cost me $10 at a moving sale. Almost 4 years ago back in Maine, we were lucky to come upon someone desperate to sell it the day before they officially moved to a house that already had a full-sized dishwasher. Granted, it was probably about 10 years old at that point, and someone had inadvisably clipped the grounding prong off the plug, but after easily installing a $2 heavy-duty grounded appliance plug, we were in business with what would be a $400 appliance to buy new.

This dishwasher has already made it through one cross-town move and one cross-country move, and it's still going strong. Sure, a couple of years ago it went through a minor bout of incontinence, but that cleared up as quickly and mysteriously as it occurred. And one of the casters broke during our first move, but even that broken caster (possibly part of the source of the incontinence) held the thing up for about a year before I finally remembered to buy a new one. Now it's better than new and glides like a dream.

I think I just might even love it more than my children. In my defense, neither of my children has yet washed even one dish for me.

If you think I have an unhealthy obsession with this dishwasher, you may be right. But if this is wrong, then I want to be very, very wrong. Sigh...