The Dishwasher

In today's story, The Dishwasher, a couple skirts a domestic dispute around a familiar topic

Today's prompt was inspired by a recent conversation with some friends about the pros and cons, and ins and outs, of dishwashers. 

If you enjoy today's story, please share it with your friends and leave a review for Freely Written. You can also send me  a prompt suggestion, and I'll be sure to credit you in the episode. Thank you!

More about Susan Quilty

Susan Quilty mainly writes novels, including two standalone novels and her current YA series: The Psychic Traveler Society.  Susan's short stories for Freely Written are created during quick writing breaks and shared as a way to practice her narration skills before she dives into recording audio versions of her novels.

Website:  SusanQuilty.com
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The Freely Written Book: Freely Written Vol. 1
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Transcript

Below is the transcript for Season 1, Episode 140 of Freely Written, a podcast by author Susan Quilty:

Welcome to Freely Written where a simple prompt leads to a little unplanned fiction.  

[Light piano music]

Hi, friends! I’m Susan Quilty and today’s prompt is The Dishwasher.

Now that the weather is getting warmer, I’ve been gathering with friends for patio drinks. During a recent hangout, the chat shifted to dishwashers. Not just which dishwashers are best, but also getting into recommended detergent, rinse aid, and salt… 

You know, the kind of Saturday afternoon chats you have over drinks… when you’re middle aged and realize you have opinions about things like appliances, gardening, and which grocery stores have the best produce. 

Though I had no intention of recreating our scintillating dishwasher conversation, I did choose The Dishwasher as my prompt for today. As always, I used my typical Freely Written process: sitting down with the prompt to write whatever might come to mind, with no planning and very little editing, and then recording that story to share with you.

Here’s how that went today:

The Dishwasher

Denise sighed as she stared into the open dishwasher. It was nearly full, but nothing was where it should be. She went to work, moving plates to one side of the bottom rack and bowls to the other, shifting the glasses to make room for two more mugs, and sorting some misplaced spoons in the cutlery tray. 

“Are you reloading the dishwasher?”

For a spilt-second, Denise froze. She settled her face into a casual smile and quickly put the last spoon into its proper place. 

Marcy watched shrewdly as she leaned against the kitchen island. This was not the first time they’d had this conversation. 

“Just making a little more room,” Denise answered lightly. 

Marcy laughed and shook her head. “You think your way is better.”

“Well…” Denise hesitated over her response as she rotated a mug to make enough space to fit in one more small glass. 

“Well?” Marcy echoed, crossing her arms. 

“There!” Denise said triumphantly. “See, I just needed a little more room to get these last dishes in.”

She reached under the counter for detergent, filled the reservoir, and closed the dishwasher with a satisfying catch. 

“Uh, huh.” Marcy watched Denise run the garbage disposal before fiddling with the dishwasher’s settings. “A normal wash is fine.”

But Denise kept pressing buttons to cycle the dishwasher’s programs. “The ‘pots and pans’ setting gets it cleaner.”

“Only if there are pots and pans in there,” Marcy countered, wondering why she was bothering when she really didn’t care one way or the other. 

“There is a pan in there,” Denise reminded before hitting the start button. 

“That tiny pot you only used to boil water?” Marcy raised an eyebrow. “You could have handwashed it in about three seconds.”

Denise did not respond. She grabbed a cloth and wiped some crumbs from the counter into the sink. Marcy looked away, catching sight of a bluebird at the birdfeeder outside the window. She reminded herself that she didn’t care about the dishwasher. That this discussion wasn’t worth her time. Then she heard herself mutter, “I meant to start it earlier.”

After a heavy sigh, Denise said, “That’s okay. I was able to get my lunch dishes in.”

“Mm-hmm,” Marcy murmured. She wondered how many couples were simultaneously discussing the finer points of dishwashers in kitchens all around the world. It was absurd. It was maddening. So, she let it go. She opened the fridge, looking for a way to change the subject.

“Do you want some strawberries?”

Denise looked at the nearly empty bowl of strawberries. If they finished them, that would leave one bowl in the sink. One bowl that would have just missed the start of the dishwasher. 

Does there always have to be a bowl in the sink? Denise wondered bitterly. She did her best to stay on top of the dishes, keeping them from piling up in the sink or on the counter between dishwasher loads. Yet, somehow, there were always one or two dishes that would show up right after the dishwasher had started running. Then another. And another. 

“No, thanks.” Denise bit her lip, telling herself there was nothing wrong with Marcy eating strawberries. Even if it emptied the bowl and started the inevitable pile of dishes in the sink. 

Marcy noticed the pained look on Denise’s face and put the strawberries back in the fridge. 

“There’s a bluebird outside.” 

Denise looked up, then edged closer, leaning to see more clearly. They’d discovered the birds loved the feeder but would spook easily if they saw movement near the window. Marcy slid an arm around Denise, slowly making room for her to get a better view. The bluebird pecked at the food, oblivious to being watched. 

They watched the birds for a while, smiling when a goldfinch joined the bluebird and scowling when a mourning dove scared both birds away.

“You know,” Marcy said softly, “when we look for our next house, we could get a bigger kitchen. Say, big enough for two dishwashers?”

“Two dishwashers?” Denise laughed. “One for me and one for you?”

“Could be,” Marcy agreed. “Or one to fill when the other is running. Just keep them cycling through.”

“We’d need a schedule,” Denise decided, as if this were a serious possibility. “Or else, we could end up running them both at the same time.”

“No problem!” Marcy assured confidently. “We’ll get three dishwashers.”

“Three?”

“Yep, or four? That’s got to be easy to find, right? A kitchen with four dishwashers?”

“In our price range?” Denise asked archly. “Sure, not a problem at all.”

They both smiled, watching two house finches land on the feeder. 

“Do you think that’s a lot of dishwashers?” Denise asked in a tone that suggested she wasn’t entirely joking. 

“Nah,” Marcy answered, giving Denise a one-armed squeeze. “Maybe for two people, but not for three.”

As if on cue, soft grunts and snuffling whimpers sounded through the baby monitor sitting on the counter. 

“She’s up.” Denise smiled, thinking of their daughter’s downy hair and velvet smooth skin. And then, in an instant, her smile turned to a look of wide-eyed worry.

“What?” Marcy pulled away, listening for danger and ready to run into the baby’s room. 

“How many dishes will she use?” Denise asked. “You know, once she’s on real food?”

Relief spread through her as Marcy laughed and shook her head. “We’ll be fine. Though… maybe two dishwashers wouldn’t be a bad idea.”

The End 

Thanks for listening. After 20+ plus years, I’m still amazed at how much of married life revolves around loading and unloading the dishwasher. That and figuring out what to have for dinner! Fun fact, we did have two dishwashers in our old house. One in the kitchen and one in the basement wet bar. Though I love our current house, I do kind of miss having that second dishwasher, especially after parties or big holiday meals. 

If you enjoyed this story, please share it with your friends. Beyond this podcast, I would love for you to check out my novels and other books. You can read about them on my website, SusanQuilty.com, or look up “Susan Quilty” wherever you buy books. As an indie author, I greatly appreciate your support!

Until next time, try a little free writing of your own. Let go of any planning and see where your imagination takes you. 

[Light piano music]