At long last, the Sears delivery man has installed my brand spanking new Kitchen Aid dishwasher. Of course, Miss Hot Pants, she of the aching back and bulging discs, would not enjoy bending over to load ‘er up the way I am. It’s a shame, really, because back in our youth, H.P. showed professional promise in this arena, due to Bob’s child labor kitchen cleaning regime, instituted at the command of one pooped mother of five, Jeanne.
But it’s no more dishpan hands for Wiggles! Even the Stir Crazy popcorn popper dome has gone into this baby and come out shining.
I thought you’d like to see the gaping hole we lived with for a couple of weeks. Kinda spooky.
Not to mention the countertop crowded with the crap from under the sink. Who knew I had Instant Dog Shampoo Spray?