M. went for his back-to-school haircut this week. His curls were getting really big - his hair seems to get bigger, not longer, when it grows. Here's the before:
And the after:
Last night, I did something I've never done before. Most people have done this at least once - probably more than once. Probably hundreds of times. At 41 years old, I had never done it before. Never. I was kind of afraid to do it. I'd thought about it, but never dared.
I took a deep breath, and I . . . used my dishwasher. I'm so proud of myself. I grew up in a house with three dishwashers - Kathy, Kim, and Kelley. Why would my mother need a dishwasher when she had three perfectly good ones? Because of that, I'd never had any experience with a non-human-powered dishwasher. I never had one in any of the places I've lived before. Now I have one in my current home. Never mind the fact that I've lived here for two years. I just didn't see the need to try it. I'm a good dishwasher. I do a good job. Lately, though, I'd find myself with a sinkfull of dirty dishes, some especially cruddy due to being hidden by M. and then forgotten because he was too freaking lazy to carry them to the kitchen when he finished eating and didn't want me to see them and yell at him again and go on and on about how I was sick of this and we're not going to live like pigs and what do your friends' rooms look like do their mothers let them get away with this what would your friends say if they came in here right now we can't have anyone over because I'd be mortified. Oops. Sorry about that. Sore subject. Deep breath.
I'd never before felt comfortable going to bed with dirty dishes in the sink, but I found myself starting to do just that. Then I'd get up in the morning to a pile of yuck that I had to deal with before coffee. Not a fun way to start my day. I heard the green bottle of Cascade that I'd bought months before calling my name. It was time. I loaded. I put Cascade in. I closed. I turned the dial. Nothing. Checked the instruction books. Check. Check. Check. Troubleshooting page. Fuse? Power on in fuse box? Check. Fiddle fiddle. Try again. Nothing. Hmmm, what is that switch for? The one on the wall that I've never touched. Flip. Try again. The delightful sound of water running through this machine. It's a beautiful thing.
After the noise ended, I checked the dishes. They were hot and steamy and squeaky clean. Cleaner than ever. I LOVE MY DISHWASHER. I'm so happy now. I just want to get lots of dishes dirty and do it again. I'm hooked.
Now for the knitting. Here's my progress on the BSJ: (Notice that the monster has not gotten any smaller. Love this monster.)
I've finished the section of decreases and now I'm starting to increase. I still have no idea what the he . . . exactly what part of the BSJ I'm knitting, but I do know that it's pretty. I'm trying to remain confident that if I'm careful, follow the directions, and continue to rely heavily on these notes, I will end up with a beautiful BSJ. I will. I will. (Sheila, are you with me? We can do this thing. Hold my hand and I'll pull you along with me.)
To all my SnB friends, some math equations:
Long day + tired girl = stay home
Stay home - SnB meet-up = SAD GIRL
I'll see you next week, for sure! Missed you!