There is always a critic in your family, isn’t there?
You should hear my husband snort and chuckle and lovingly berate me when he unpacks the dishwasher if I have stacked the thing. Which is often. I have stacked more dishwashers in the last decade than most have had cups of teas. I am a shove-it-in and get-it-done kind of stacker. The more the merrier. The fry pan can go on the top or bottom shelf and if I can squeeze little cups underneath it, I take it as a victory. I hurl that cutlery in any way up or down is fine. I whirl in the plates and they can touch each other if they want. It’s cleaning, not an event with covid safe social distancing, people! They are all going to be cleaned and the worst-case scenario is that I may have to wash one or two dirty items again.
I like to walk on the wild side. My husband is a neat dishwasher stacker and has a sense of superiority that his way is the right way. But I argue every time his way takes ten times longer and who has time for that? My neat-freak plate police even stoops so low as to restack the dish washer behind my back. I hear this is common foul play in marriages. Sometimes I will open the dish washer to see a pixie has been in the middle of the night to make things inside all neat and orderly. A pixie wearing track suit pants and size eleven male shoes. The pixie has lined up the glasses and put them in order of height size and all of the cutlery is facing the same way.
I threaten divorce as we have heated words in front of the Finish dishwashing tablet box. But I think the family court would side with my husband for tolerating more than a decade of dishwasher disrespect.
In the meantime, what a great idea for schools to introduce some life learning lessons into their curriculum. Teaching the kids how to stack a dishwasher would be a stroke of genius if the kids had to pass an exam on the correct way to stack a dish washer.