I am waiting patiently for the appliance repairmen. (Ok, not so patiently! I’m on my second mocha latte.)
Our 5-year-old top of the line dishwasher broke. We turned it on before going to bed and were greeted with an ocean-front kitchen the next morning. That’s on hard wood floors. The real ones that soak up water and warp.
The only day Mr. Repairman can come is the same day we are having dinner guests. We love sharing chaos with friends. We have plastic disposable dishes if necessary. It can be a picnic without ants.
In my youth appliances never broke. They got ugly. We insisted on replacing my mother’s 40-year-old refrigerator because the freezer was a big as a deck of cards and it was shaped like an inverted “U.” It worked just fine.
We replaced harvest gold appliances after 20 years just because.
In contrast we replaced our last refrigerator after six years. Yes it was also close to the top of the line model. I threw an adult tantrum at the appliance place. (My version is mild. I know it’s not their fault but it was so hard to believe that the lifespan of a $2000 fridge is 6 to 8 years.)
I am working on my “Zen.” (Is that a noun? Adjective? State of being?)
In truth, I am a lucky person. I have a home. I can wash dishes. I woke up this morning (always a good thing!). Nothing hurt. I have no medical procedure on the horizon. No one close to me died. I can afford to eat and feed my cats. My cats are healthy (and adorable).
We have friends that will think it’s funny if our kitchen is a little odd. They are in the middle of a major kitchen redo so they understand.