The Demonic Dishwasher

The following is a story of a kitchen appliance from Hades and how I, Katie Elserbeth Hawkes, did not let it get the best of me.

It all began in August, when I attempted to use our dishwasher for the first time. Unfortunately, cavernous basement homes that smell like mildew and lack heating or AC should also come with warning labels for the kitchen appliances. Unbeknownst to mine self, using the dishwasher whilst having the crock pot plugged in AND having the lights on was just too much for the ancient electrical circuits ... long story short, I managed to blow every fuse in the kitchen.

Fast forward a little bit. Six months and one exploded toaster oven later, I had managed to mostly avoid any more major crises in my kitchen. However, one day last week our dishwasher accidentally got set on the "Pots and Pans" setting, which I think is code for "Unearthly amounts of plastic-melting heat" ... long story short, half of our plates and cups came out slightly "remodeled."

But oh, what to do with such beautifully warped dishes? One roommates trash is another roommate's treasure, I say! So, I formulated a plan in my head to build a creation out of these "treasures." With a vision in my head, I determined that my first step would be to drill a hole through the middle of the plates. You would think that plates that had warped so easily wouldn't be made of indestructible plastic ... but oh, magically enough, they were.

My first attempt involved hammering a nail through the middle ... no luck.
My second attempt involved heating the nail to heat a hole through the middle ... no luck. (And one small stovetop fire. No harm done.)

It was time for more drastic measures, so I called up my friend and asked to borrow a power drill. Turns out his family keeps their power tools at their airplane hangar (yes, they own planes). So, with my car chillin' on E, I picked up my buddy and we drove to the airport. (Which was creepy and dark at night.) Upon arriving at the hangar, we discovered a light was on inside, at which point I decided drug dealers must have taken up residence.
Turns out it was just his dad, so all was well. (Except for the awkward explaining about why me and his son had driven to a dark corner of the airport, alone, late at night. Yikes. haha.)

This story has gotten much too long....suffice it to say, the power drill didn't end up working, turned out one of the boys upstairs had a power drill the entire time, and bada-bing bada-boom, I created my masterpiece.

Bet you wish YOU had a windchime (windclunk) made out of warped dishes ... but only the lucky few have a dishwasher high-tech enough to allow such a treat.

The end. (There you go Mandy. I told you it was a long story...)