Email: "Stocked with Excuses"
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When it came time to find a new apartment I had my wish list (lots of natural light, preferably no neighbors playing Phil Collins at 4 am on a Tuesday like my first sublet in Chicago, big closets) but I found a place with an added feature that I really didn’t know how to handle. My new place has a dishwasher. It has been so long since this simple luxury has been part of my life. I was floored when I found out it was there. And for a moment I kind of wanted it to be gone.



Then I started to notice the other factors of the new home base to which I would now constant access and I started to wonder if they were necessary, and I realized that they of course were not necessary and that’s what makes them so awesome. My old reality involved cooking something, putting the dishes in the sink (or sometimes leaving them on the stovetop) then eating and putting the dirty dishes in the sink and then washing the dishes when I needed that pot or pan again, usually within two days. I make the bed every morning, my bathroom looks pretty clean, but when it comes to doing dishes it’s easy to come up with excuses (same with washing windows). My new reality involves cooking/eating like before but then the dishes go into the dishwasher, and then I sit on the couch while the work is done for me. Maybe I’ll do something constructive. Do I need a hobby now for all this extra free time? My place is also equipped with Satellite TV so maybe I’ll take up watching A-Team reruns in Spanish (way more fun than you’d think). Or maybe I should volunteer at the hospital next door (washing the MedEvac helicopter, preferably)? Or maybe/probably nothing will change.



Once when my brother, sister and I were little kids my parents went out of town and left us with our grandpa. Life was always good when grandpa was around, all we’d do was eat candy and cherries and watch Fraggle Rock. But when we went to his house for an overnight stay I was exposed to a new form of cooking I didn’t know existed- soup was cooked in a pot on the stovetop and popcorn was popped in one of those old school machines that looked like a Star wars droid. My mom and dad are good cooks and preparing meals has always been a big deal at our house, but canned soup was always put in a bowl and sent to the microwave. Grandpa had a microwave, he just didn’t use it. When I moved into my minivan sized apartment in Chicago that would be my home for the past two years I didn’t own a microwave and decided quickly I wouldn’t buy one and I never missed it once (I’d love to tell you I spent the money I would have otherwise spent on a microwave on something constructive but it probably went towards chicken tacos. I ate fresher foods, ate less left overs, made more frequent trips to the produce aisle across the street, became more conscious of the portions I was cooking (enough for dinner and a little extra for lunch the next day- microwaving was still practiced at the office). I was never anti-microwave, I just didn’t need it. Like cable TV I realized it was something I was used to having in college but wasn’t using in my adult life. But that was then. Now my home is stocked with shortcuts. This building was just rehabbed so everything is brand new (the microwave is built into the wall, it’s like living in a space station) and it might be more than I need, definitely more than I’m used to. It’s stocked with timesavers and luxuries, and if this stuff doesn’t seem like a luxury try taking the batteries out of your remote for tow hours ( I can’t). But the fun is in the options, and I’ll still be making soup on the stove top. But the dirty pot is going in the dishwasher.

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