So about that bowl this morning.
Sure, driving three miles to avoid washing a bowl doesn’t sound lazy. But what if you were avoiding washing fifty bowls by driving three miles?
Our dishwasher is broken. We got a new one for my birthday, which sounds like a strange birthday gift unless you know that our old dishwasher sounded like a cross between a Stomp concert and a cat being beaten. This new dishwasher was incredibly quiet. Stunning, really. And it was particularly quiet after it stopped working. Silent, actually.
I hear hail outside. Big hail. It’s been that kind of damn week.
So once the dishwasher stopped working, I just stopped using regular dishes. And when I wanted to eat some yogurt with M&M’s this morning, and we were out of paper bowls, there was no question what I was going to do.
“Going to the store,” I said to Gloria as I picked up my keys.
“It’s one bowl,” Gloria said. “How long could it take to wash one bowl?”
“I don’t know,” I said, “because I’m not going to wash one.”
“Agghhh!” she said. I’m going to remind her of that conversation the next forty-nine times I don’t have to wash a bowl.