Susan Luzzaro 7:30 p.m., Feb. 9
- Community Blog
- Normal Heights Through the Blue and White
The Sordid, Grisly Details
New feature today (may be sporadic): the BARNACLE ALERT.
Barnacle Alert: DOUBLE BLADE SLIDING SWORD - $45 (VISTA)
This was a featured Runner-Up of a very early blog of mine!
As for today's featured Runner-Up:
Hmmm, poster has a funny way of spelling "Free Laptop..." Seriously, much better for the world in general to give something like this away to the truly needy. Also, there's that guy who has a flyer posted in Lestat's wherein he takes old laptops and somehow (perhaps by magic) turns them into money for charity. I'm informed this isn't a scheme, surprisingly and admirably enough.
Ladies and Gentlemen--whether you like it or not--Hedw...er...uh....Post of the Day!
Suggested Slogan: "Tabletop Dishwasher: Like Not Having a Dishwasher, But With Less Counter Space!"
In all fairness, the tabletop dishwasher is actually pretty neat. I can see how many people, when faced with the prospect of living in a Lightless Torture Dungeon, oufitted with too-small sinks, would leap at the opportunity to have a tabletop dishwasher. Many of these little cells are not equipped with dishwashers of any sort, and doing dishes is not a favorite task to many. For myself, however, the tale is told a little differently. You see, I enjoy the washing of the dishes; taking some small pleasure in cleansing that which was been soiled. Always a favorite pet task of mine when doing restaurant work, too. Never had a problem doing dishes. Doing real dishes--like, heaps and mountains of dishes--can be a very zen experience. You just wash, and wash, and wash, and wash, and let the mind wander, freely exploring all the strangest little corners of your consciousness while endless plates and silver come and go, come and go. I swear, it can actually be quite pleasant.
I realize that few share this sentiment.
The owners of the tabletop dishwasher are likely among the ranks of men and women dispossessed of a love of dishwashing by one-too-many crud-enameled glasses, grease-spattered plates, fork tines death-gripping tiny bits of dried stroganoff, lasagne-shellacked casserole dishes, knife blades streaked with last night's jus, the ghosts of meals long gone and breakfasts only recently departed, those chilling reminders that our meals are anything but sterile pass-times made for waste-free nourishment. These sorts (perfectly normal sorts, but "sorts" nonetheless), these dishnonwashing types would have their cake, eat it, and then let the Haier corporation (surprisingly, not a German company) worry about the sordid, grisly details.
I understand that my pleasure in dishery is not theirs and that my Buddha-esque composure in tackling a veritable Everest of grimy, filthy, far-too-long-left-sitting housewares is not a common trait of 21st-century peoples. I see the need met by the tabletop dishwasher, I see it outlined clear-as-day by the bright pink hi-liter of commerce and it's slightly more nefarious twin, the sketchy felt tipped pen of dubiously-functional-yet-altogether-seductive technologies. I see, as it were, beyond the suds and soap scum, through the haze of cloudy dishwater, the wish to not have shriveled, ruined, dishpan hands. I see a solution--and not a solution of soap and water, fine-tuned to the optimum temperature and degree of sudsiness--a solution to this great dilemma. A ninety (90) dollar fix which, to the right person, may be beyond price itself.