The power of (verbal) communication

It is a well-known and previously discussed point that I am the primary 'dishwasher-correspondent' in this household. I load it, I run it, I empty it. This is fact. It is also fact that I would never want to trade for one of Tom's man duties, such as having to install it, or clean the clogged lines.

I can whip those dishes out of there and another load back in and get the party started in a matter of 4 minutes. I've timed it. Four minutes would be the same time as a commercial break... Which would only really matter if we own a T.V... and T.V. channels. But I digress.

Where was I? Oh right: Day-to-day dishwasher duties: mine. Manly, gross,take-all-afternoon stuff: His.

So, being the primary dishwasher girl, I take pride in my job. I know what cycle works best for what dirty products I so decide to shove inside and balance these needs against my desire to save the planet and only use the minimum amount of energy possible. I also know how to pack things in just-so in order to have them fit, remembering which items are only allowed to go in the top rack... etc.

I take pride in my duties, I'll have you know.

Now, knowing all this background info, you can probably relate to my minor irritation that started to build a month or two after we moved into our new (second) apartment. You see, I'd happily unload, load, and then go to start the dishwaher just o find that ... GAH!.... "someone" changed the settings. Garg! I do not use the drying feature. In my cheap economical mind, the hot water will evaporate on it's own and there is no need to heat the apartment with the humidness from the dishwasher elemts drying the dishes. But no, no, no, I would find this feature to be turned to the "ON" position. AND, if that wasn't enough to kill me, 'Pots 'N Pans' would also be on. GASP!!!

I would, seriously, have to consciously move my thoughts from:
"Why does he do that! If he wants his way with the settings and how the dishes are done, why can't he tell me or, better yet, help!"

to:

"Oh, that's nice, he's trying to help."

This went on for months. Honestly, months. It didn't happen everytime, just once every two weeks or so. Jsut often enough to remind me about it... And have it seep under the skin .

So, one day when Tom was with me in the kitchen and I went to set the dishwasher and saw it was set to Pots 'n Pans with the Dryer on, I let out one of those "now famous" sighs of mine.

C: "WHY do you do THAT?" (pointing)

T: "What?"

C: "I don't like using the dryer, it heats the apartment and wastes energy. I wipe the dishes when they come out, if needed. And, I seldom put pots or pans in there, it's a waste of a cycle so don't set it to that cycle. If you don't like how the dishwasher is set, and therefore the way I do the dishes, quit passive aggressively changing the settings, and actually tell me."

The look on Tom's face was evident; he had no idea the dishwasher had different settings. Or why I was looking at him with piercing squinted eyes.

T: "I don't touch that thing. Not unless you ask me to clean the line or something, otherwise I don't touch it."



Oh.



Oops!

So who in the world is changing my dishwasher settings and trying to "passive aggressively" kill me when my husband isn't home to defend himself ?



To Be Continued... HERE