One of those blessings in disguise...had a place years back had a dishwasher. Instructions were long gone but how hard can it be, right? Load it up...this took about a week...you got the plate set comes four-a-piece? The tin pots they got in the mark-down aisle? Assorted odds and ends. I put some dish soap in the thingy...Palmolive, as I recall. Stuff Marge soaks in? I think I added a dribble or two to the field, too. The rack area? Flip the thingy over to lock the door...can't remember it if had a dial or push buttons but I did that, kick back on the...I think I had a couch...or one chair, a pretend recliner. Dishwasher making a helluva racket, have to turn the volume up on the television...or was I reading? Hear the thing go through the motions, that pleasant-sounding noise of dirty dishes being tended to. After a time the noise stops...or almost...maybe it was winding down? Heat cycle? Something. I get up and the kitchen is full of soap suds. You got the dishwasher there, grinning at me, foaming at the mouth? Real proud like.
Never used it again. I let things soak. You let things soak you can read, it's all nice and quiet...go back later and use the sprayer thingy? Anyway, the floor needed scrubbing so I got a swab and moved suds around...say like if you want suds...would you get suds? Oh no...nope...but these are determined suds, want to stick around and mock me...but by-and-by I got rid of them. It all came out in the wash.
