I gave you fifteen plates to wash, and you cleaned only two.
I gave you six bowls to wash, and you cleaned only one.
I gave you three coffee mugs to wash, and you left coffee stains in them all.
Dishwasher, why do you make me so sad?
I give you water and electricity. I give you detergent and JetDry. I give you dishes to keep you company every day. I ask for so little in return
I only make you work twice a week.
And yet you let me down. You do not clean the dishes. In fact, you bake the food remnants on the dirty dishes so they are even harder to clean. You leave detergent residue on your door. You laugh at me when I take the dishes out, and I hear you giggle as I re-wash them by hand.
Dishwasher, I do not love you anymore.
It’s not me, it’s you.
Soon, I will find a newer, better dishwasher, and you will leave my home. We will not invite you back for birthdays or holidays. You will not see my Christmas dishes again. You will not get to clean my oatmeal bowls or my coffee mugs. And I will not miss you. I will love the new dishwasher more than I ever loved you.
Dishwasher, you are dead to me.