Canadian children today are taught to say “snowperson” not “snowman.” In other news, today was supposed to be… I want to say “the summer of George.” But no, it was supposed to be dishwasher installation day. Instead, it was dishwasher installation people come by and discover a wiring incompatibility issue such that not only is the new dishwasher sitting, unwrapped and uninstalled in our kitchen, but this also knocked out (though there are workarounds) our stove. Who knows! An electrician, apparently, but a full electrician call is only possible after the holidays.
And all of this, home with a 3-year-old and 4-month-old, and not tremendous amounts of sleep. It is a daycare break, too, because holidays, maybe soon because Omicron as well. The sidewalks are too iced-over for carrier walks, the playground similarly seasonably unusable.
Buck up buckaroo! I paraphrase Jordan Peterson, or maybe commenter Stu. It’s not so bad! These are the good old days!
I do, for reasons of ethnicity/personality, think, often, of the Holocaust, and how people survived (or didn’t; see, my relatives) under far worse conditions than the absence of a crucial household appliance or two. And even apart from major global tragedies, no one had a dishwasher before recently-ish, so I should (but for complicated reasons we can’t get takeout!!) get over myself.
But at the same time, the dishwasher literally broke for the first time before the baby was born, and fully kaputted itself (and for unrelated reasons!) in the end of October. I, Karen, feel entitled to a working, installed dishwasher. To a dishwasher and to a kaiseki meal, alone and in complete silence (robot waiters?), and then a king size bed, with 24 hours of available sleep.
Dude, go get a hotel room, leave the kids with their father, and sleep for a few days. You keep talking about wanting sleep, why not make it happen?