My mother took advantage of a sales tax-free weekend in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts last weekend to buy us a new Whirlpool dishwasher to replace the Magic Chef unit that came with the house.
That thing was as old as time -- probably an original appliance that was installed when the kitchen was built, and it had definitely outlived its usefulness. It was nice of her to do -- if there was one kitchen appliance we wanted to replace, it was that one. The dishwasher was definitely on its last legs.
For one thing, the springs in the door were shot, so it would swing open with the force of a guillotine. James and the other kids caught it in the head from that thing more than once. When the door was open, it would rest at a slightly negative angle, so the bottom rack would roll out. This actually made loading dishes a big pain in the butt, because they would invariably roll around in the tray as it was resting on the door.
For another, it was loud as hell -- enough so that if we or the kids were watching a movie in the living room, which adjoins the kitchen, we'd have to turn up the volume to hear. It would have made a good sound effect for a star wars movie -- somewhere between an industrial machine and an otherworldly caterwaul.
Last, it used an old design that didn't very efficiently clean dishes and cups put on the top rack. We used it every day, and saw that it was doing a poorer and poorer job over time -- Bonnie would sometimes have to re-wash stuff in the top rack by hand.
So the new Whirlpool model went in on Friday, thanks to an independent contract Sears farmed the work out to. They showed up when they were originally scheduled to, and the only real snafu was that he grounded out the live electrical wire, which tripped the same circuit that my AirPort router and cable modem used, so I was temporarily without Internet access for a few minutes until I flipped the circuit breaker back on.
They had actually called us on Thursday -- it looked like they were going to install it a day early. But when he finally arrived, the contractor discovered that while the home office had given him our paperwork, they hadn't actually loaded our dishwasher itself into his truck. So he ended up coming back on Friday afternoon, as originally planned, and installed it without incident.
The difference between the old and new dishwasher is like night and day. You can barely hear this model operate, and it has push buttons and a digital timer on the front. It's also black (our other major appliances are white, but Bonnie and I prefer black).
Robert christened it last night -- I let him press the buttons to get the first load clean. Of course, getting him to load and unload it is a totally different story.
It's amazing what we take for granted as modern conveniences, and dishwashers definitely rank up there. As a lad I grew up for most of my first ten years in my grandmother's house -- she to this day contends that dishwashers are unnecessary, and instead has a two-basin steel sink that she (or whoever she corrals during big family means) uses to wash and dry dishes.
While we still lived there, my mother ended up buying a portable unit, that she took with us when we finally got our own house. It certainly saved time.
When Bonnie and I were first together as a couple, we didn't have a dishwasher in our apartment, but by the time Robert came along ten years ago we were living in places with dishwashers and haven't lived without one since.
Now, with three kids, I consider a dishwasher one of those modern conveniences that, while not strictly necessary, would definitely negatively impact the quality of our lives if we had to live without. Sort of like not having to churn your own butter or scrub your clothes against a rock down by the river.