As a late night connoisseur of almost expired milk and distinctly stale Cheerios (but only on this night. I wrote that to sound all fancy), and I’ll just interject here and now to say that the following has nothing to do with writing, except that I’m writing this, but that’s about it, I have observed something tonight, or it occurred to me as I embarked on the less than crunchy state of the contents of the bowl before me, and to interject again to note that, yes, I am aware that this is a rather long sentence, but being that I come from a Linguistics background you can rest assured that I have taken into account that all clauses are appropriately and grammatically correct, and push it a bit and say syntactically, since we are talking about a sentence, and jump back to the issue at hand, and that is that the dishwasher is not a cupboard.
In my house, the dishwasher has been a substitute cupboard for nearly the last two days. This has come to my attention since this is unusual in my house –not completely unfamiliar, just unusual. When the dishes are dirty, the box under the counter is a dishwasher. It becomes a cupboard only when the dishes, once clean, sit in there without them being put away in a reasonable amount of time to prevent it from becoming a storage facility of eating utensils. So, if we’re crossing into greying boundaries here, and surely for the sake of argument we are, the state in which the dishwasher becomes a cupboard hinges on the factor of time. Exactly how long must the clean dishes sit untended, abandoned by their owners, prevented from nesting in their home, the cupboard?
Also, at what point does the dishwasher cease existing as its utilitarian definition to become some intangible morphed definition of something else? A particular something else. This is a key question. Pay attention. There’ll be a test at the end. Both the dishwasher and the cupboard are similar in that they hold dishes. They both store dishes for a finite amount of time before being emptied and restocked. Aside from the water and soap, by all intents and purposes, a dishwasher is really not that much different than a cupboard –and I’m not helping myself here by my stated title, am I.
Okay, starting again.
As in anything, it’s perspective. We retrieve a clean dish from the cupboard to be used immediately for the point of getting soiled. We withdraw the item from the space it is stored, the cupboard. So far so good. Now, the dishwasher, however, is that temporary place for dishes, a stepping stone if you will, for the intended destination of the cupboard, its proper holding place. Now if we pull a dish for the purpose of using it, meaning getting it soiled, from the dishwasher, we have pretty much altered the laws of the universe.
We like our defined boundaries. A dishwasher is a dishwasher, not just by its intended purpose, but by the finite amount of time dishes sit waiting to be cleaned, get cleaned, and then, like a whimpering dog, waits to be dealt with. No, at this point, that reasonable amount of time has yet to be determined. Being a fairly wobbly variable, sort of like a dealing with potentials in quantum physics, it’s out there.
The dishes are still sitting there because it’s a late night, and it’s been a busy day, and, and, and…I really don’t feel like being maid at the moment. The dishes, though clean, don’t care that they’re there. Again, it’s only perspective. I care. Well, not this minute. Not now.
So I suppose it comes down to this. The dishwasher is not intended to be a cupboard. I know. It’s a sad, sad life.