take one woman with low self esteem, but quite good hair
add one moronic illness
stir in some medication which causes hair to fall out
mix it all up and this is what you get...

Thursday, September 29, 2005

Domestic matters 

The old dishwasher just wasn't doing the job. It was perfectly capable of doing it, but it chose not to perform on occasion.

The dishwasher I had when I lived alone was frightfully efficient and usually completed the job within an hour or so after the meal was done. Then, when I moved in with Big, the dishwasher he had was rather temperamental. Often, it just wouldn't work at all. When it did work, the dishes were done to a high quality, I couldn't argue with that, but the frequency with which it chose to work was not compatible with my expectations.

Oh, I know what you're thinking. Why didn't I just bring *my* dishwasher to Big's? In truth, I did. But the change in living arrangements meant that my dishwasher couldn't cope with the demand and refused to work under those conditions.

Up until yesterday, the dishwasher was still not up to scratch and frankly, it was getting me down. I'd come home to stacks of unwashed dishes and pans and would struggle to cook the dinner surrounded by the detritus of previous meals. There was only one solution - a new dishwasher. It came yesterday and washed its first load last night. It's German, cuboid in shape, mostly white but with silver accents.

The old one was also white, but made in England, with a small amount of silver trim, about 6'3" high, built like a (large) humanoid and answering to the name of "Big".

Whereas *my* old one was white beneath an outer layer of black, lots of silver embellishments, British made and about 5'10" high. With a huge arse. And hefty thighs. And small boobs.

Yes, the reign of terror of the crockery is over. I have acquired my very first, non-human dishwasher.

*strokes dishwasher*

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