I want to say that my life is not dominated by a broken dishwasher, but… kind of? For a variety of reasons, we produce a lot of dishes (think running the machine, when there is one, 2-3 times a day) and there’s no avoiding this. No obvious shortcut we have not considered.
The dishwasher’s decision to kaput itself in the middle of a supply-chain shortage, and right before the end of my husband’s parental leave—insert Canadian privilege disclaimer that there even was one—has meant that the main thing I have to report is the current state of the sink. (Empty! Fleetingly.) Supposedly a new dishwasher will arrive the beginning of next month, at which point I will doubtless return to the life of the mind. But not online drama, as without Twitter, beats me what that even is.
Is Facebook Twitter’s methadone? Is that an appropriate analogy or simultaneously offensive and inaccurate? It is at any rate an unsatisfying substitute, filled with boring if often practical information. I’ve set mine up to basically just be relevant-to-me parenting groups (and poodles). It is refreshingly slash tragically short on discourse. I mean there was something recently, where a FB friend who is a trans woman had to broker a sensitivity-off in her comments, vaguely about trans issues but seemingly more because another FB friend of hers hijacked the thread to engage in a spot of sanctibullying. For discourse followers and assumption-makers let it be known that my FB friend was not on team hypersensitivity. I swear this was more interesting than it sounds, but in the interests of discretion I will stop there.
There was also some minor drama in the Wirecutter comments to the kids’ pajamas review:
Ooh juicy. My take: dogs and cats do not grow the way children do! My miniature poodle has been wearing the same quilted green Lands End coat for a decade, and yes I can hear myself. If my human children do not get similarly investment-y clothes it might have something to do with their tendency to go up a size between when I order whatever it is and when it arrives. That said, I will spend $80 Canadian dollars on machine-washable children’s sneakers, because this is a miracle product, as well as one I justify as, it’s really more like $40, what with two kids.
So: Was going off Twitter a mistake, turning me into some kind of 1950s suburban housewife, severing a vital connection to the outside world, and turning me into one of those people who can literally only think about removing caked-on filth from children’s footwear, pots and pans? I had hoped the move would un-mush my brain but I fear it has made it mushier still. The stakes are low, however, as I will likely go back on it at some point, but not before the new dishwasher’s installed.
"Is Facebook Twitter’s methadone?" is one of the many reasons we love you.
Not to be all Zen, but I find my mind the clearest and most productive after bouts of brute physical labor. Probably the best is splitting firewood. Not sure why this is so mentally refreshing vs a workout. Perhaps there is something about being able to see fruits of labor. Dunno.
Maybe view washing dishes as a form of self-care rather than an odious task😀