The search for a dishwasher continues. In contradiction to common sense, we went to several retail outlets this weekend. Since it is after Thanksgiving there was little merchandise on the shelves, lots scattered on the floor, and a tangy whiff of desperation in the air. Even though we are comparison shopping, fact-finding, and price-quoting online, my wife wanted to see the dishwashers in person. Wait! There’s a reason for this! The cutlery baskets in some dishwashers is a lot smaller than others. This is one of those little details that slips by me as I run slap-dash through a major purchasing decision, only to frustrate me every single time I use the appliance thereafter. Example: our el-cheapo fridge has plastic vegetable drawers that shriek every time you open them. And to open them you’ve got to the swing the door open almost 180 degrees, since the “engineers” who designed the fridge never actually tried operating it before they gave the thumbs-up to the production crew. Which leaves me with a fridge I
want to terminate with extreme prejudice dislike. This is why my wife’s idea to see non-virtual appliances in a non-virtual store is quite astute.
Our Saturday night trip to two big-box stores was an eye-opening fact of parenting. Just as you hated be dragged around some boring store as a kid while your parents shopped for shoelaces and vacuum cleaner bags, so did I chase Baby Harbat through the aisles and tried to keep her entertained while I weighed the benefits of plastic and stainless steel dishwasher tubs. And lo was the medicine bitter.
Our one big mistake of the weekend was going to Toys R Us. Funny, they made a little mistake in the naming of that store. It should’ve been called Toys R Scattered Everywhere. Which isn’t the fault of the company really, it’s just a reality that children will roam like hyenas, leaving wreckage and ruination in their wake. Baby Harbat was actually quite good, wishing only to return to the tricycle area to test drive an especially tasty pink and purple number with handlebar tassles. Sadly in the confusion she dropped a small Piglet doll she had brought in, which she called Piglet Baby. Piglet Mommy, the larger plush version, was still safe in the car. I think was sadder than she, mostly at the thought that little Piglet will be swept up with the assorted detritus on the floor and dumped out. Such is life.
I imagine this week will be a spirited tug of war between the plaster/painting project and newly-recorded episodes of Top Chef on the DVR. I make no promises!