The so-called marriage experts contend that most American marriages end because of constant arguments over sex or money. Since the wife and I have little of either lying around our house to fight about, we choose to argue over what we have in abundance: dirty dishes.
Here's how a typical Wednesday goes down in our house:
Wife: "Good. You're home early for a change. You can take out these table scraps, bag up the trash, and then take your turn washing the dishes."
Hubby: "Wait a minute now, I said I'd wash dishes one day this week, I didn't say it was going to be today! And beside, I just washed them last month!"
Wife (with angry tears in her eyes): "So what you're saying is you don't love me! What about me? I have to cook your supper, and wash your dirty clothes, and help your son with his homework every day after school, and ..."
At some point, ears still ringing, you're up to your elbows in sudsy water and you can't quite figure out where you left your manhood, but you suspect it may be in her purse somewhere.
For a family of three, preparing a typical meal in our house dirties up exactly 32.5 dishes (that .5 dish is the one that no one knows exactly if it's clean or dirty, so we assume it's half dirty and wash it again anyway.)
Throw in a little pie for desert, and you'll need to figure the square root of pi to calculate the number of dishes the wife and hubby will have to squabble over.
Against my better judgment, I broke down and bought Mrs. DeWitt a new dishwasher the other day. A nice one, just like the marriage therapist recommended. Even installed it myself, which the Home Depot guy recommended. I've now signed warrants out on both of those malicious idiots.
Now, if you plan to install a dishwasher without professional help (a plumber, an electrician, and a priest) it can get a little tricky, so I have prepared a handy, common sense manual that even the average married man can understand.
STEP 1: Carefully unpack the dishwasher from the huge cardboard box it came in. Set the box aside, but do not discard it. This very important, because you will need the box for Step 6.
Then, politely ignore the wife's emotional outbursts ("I love you!" the wife will likely say, giving you a hug. Or: "I love my dishwasher!," giving the Whirlpool a hug). It's all just a cruel trick, as you will see in Step 5.
STEP 2: Cut/rip out a space in the kitchen cabinet for the dishwasher. I would recommend measuring the dishwasher itself, and then cutting a hole in the cabinet the exact same size, but that's not going to work.
No matter what you do, the hole is going to be entirely too small and you are going to have to grease the appliance up with Vaseline and say a few ungentlemanly words in front of a lady to get it inserted. Before the day is over you will be on the Internet Googling "Symptoms of a hernia" and "Chiropractors in your Zip Code."
STEP 3: You realize that you forgot to hook up the plumbing and electrical lines to the back of the dishwasher before insertion, so you say a few more swear words trying to pull the dishwasher back out.
If you run of out English swear words, on the back of the instruction manual is a handy list of Spanish cuss words.
STEP 4. Install the dishwasher. For this you need some pliers, wrenches, and PVC pipe glue.
With your pliers and wrenches, successfully cross-connect your water and electrical lines to the point that when you flush the toilet, the lights in the kitchen flicker and a small fire starts under the laboratory.
Then, open the can of strong-smelling pipe glue just long enough for the chemical fumes to fill the kitchen and calm your nerves, and call a professional plumber and electrician. Be prepared to pay them more than you paid for the dishwasher itself.
STEP 5: Be prepared to sit back and enjoy hours of college football, knowing that you will never have to touch another dish or endure another argument over dishes with your spouse, who is so grateful about having a dishwasher around that she has built a candle-lit shrine to the appliance right smack dab in the middle of the kitchen floor, and she's even contemplating washing her delicate drawers in it.
Hallelujah! Your life, your quality of life, your very marriage is about to improve! Never again will you fight over dishes! Perhaps.
Wife: "Honey, the dishwasher's through running. Would you mind pausing the game, taking the dishes out, and putting them up? I filled it up this morning."
Hubby: "You mean, after I just spent all day installing that dishwasher, now I have to empty it?"
Wife: "So what you're saying is, you don't love me...?"
STEP 6: Retrieve the large cardboard box. Place it outside in the back yard, grab a few belongings, and make this your new, permanent residence, far away from the kitchen and the wife.
And, if you're nice to him, the dog will lick the bowl clean for you.