For the first time in over 5 years I have a dishwasher. It's an absolute blessing--my soft delicate hands hate the feel of grime. The dishwasher frees me (and, vicariously, my wife) from this burden.

Yet it concerns me greatly and I didn't know why...until now.

We've recently begun the final stages of truly moving into our new home, which entails the opening of boxes that haven't seen the light of day for--in some cases--2 years. And yet, for each trinket that squeezes its way out, I know the story behind it. I know exactly why we wanted it, who gave it to us, and why it should go where its going. For anything I don't know, Jamie is quick to step up with a similar knowledge and interest.

Long story short, we have a lot of stuff that we--quite deliberately--own.

Take, for example, my receiver. A wedding gift from my brother, this highly complicated piece of machinery exists primarily for all of the entertainment devices in our life to share one set of surround speakers and TV. Despite the tangled array of coaxial connections, I can now setup and tear down everything in under 20 minutes.

And I've programmed it to say "DVDEEZ" when it's set to the DVD player.

This level of care and understanding is beginning to extend to matters of home ownership. Having lived in some pretty shoddy apartments--infrastructure-wise--I am now grateful for an abundance of three-pronged outlets. Three-pronged outlets that are run with appropriately-guaged cable and connected to high capacity circuit breakers (not fuses *shudder*).

The home carries with it a great deal of fetters--keeping the LP tank full and understanding that it feeds the fireplace and the stove only. Knowing that my hot water comes from an electric tank in our limestone rock basement. All these are fetters I understand and accept without reservation--

--except the dishwasher.

I never asked for a dishwasher. I don't understand how it works. I wouldn't know how to replace it, who to call to have it serviced, or why it needs special soap. Speaking of soap, how is it supposed to spread to all of the dishes from its off-center, on-the-door position? It chokes, gurgles, consumes resources, and then *poof* we have clean dishes.

I'm not some weird anti-materialist. I believe everyone has the right to live exactly the way they want to provided they accept the consequences. But I'm terrified of owning anything of which I don't know the internal workings. Can I fix the pulleys on the engine of my Saturn? No, but I understand why they're there and some of the symptoms that their breaking causes. I take pride in only depending on things I understand--otherwise it has to be disposable. 

A dishwasher is not disposable. I can't live without it. It controls me.

And honestly, I think this comes from leading a nomadic lifestyle. If we didn't know how to change a tire, we would've lost a good 3 or 4 days on our east-coast Sabbatical. We own so many old things, but I'm proud to own them because they've had to survive about 6 moves/life changes. They're sturdy, and worth owning.

For now, I'm keeping my eye on that smug dishwasher