While growing up, I was deprived. I spent much of my youth without a dishwasher.

My family, which had to scrape together poor scrapings from the public scraping well, was forced to wash dishes by hand. (This was probably because dishwashers hadn’t yet been invented, although hands were new on the market.)

Each of us in the family had to go through the onerous work of wetting a sponge, soaping it up, rinsing the mac and cheese off the plate and then putting the plate carefully in the countertop dish dryer and getting it in one of those slots so it wouldn’t fall down, break a wine glass and ruin the exquisite symmetry of the drying dishes.

It was backbreaking work, which we sometimes had to do in the snow on our way to school, particularly since we had to do it standing up while listening to Top 40 radio endlessly repeating songs by Tommy James and the Shondells.

So, naturally, after all the deprivation, when I hit it big as a humor writer, I wanted a dishwasher. Years ago, it was among the first purchases we made, right after we bought the battery-powered juice extractor/peeler.

That dishwasher rendered great service for years and became, truly, a member of the family, sleeping in our bed and going on vacations to the beach with us. But as it must come to all appliances, the dishwasher eventually got old and no longer recognized macaroni and cheese. In dog years, it had become a dog.

To compensate for its failings, we had to go from quick wash to normal wash to industrial-strength nuclear removal. And when even that didn’t work, we decided we finally needed to get a new dishwasher.

We did the research.

We learned about the relative importance of a stainless steel tub, a sensor cycle, interactive touch controls, pre-rinsing, power-scrubbing and an ultra-fine filter with an exclusive, advanced technology pump along with an audio book that would explain what an ultra-fine filter with an exclusive advanced technology pump actually was.

We did the measuring. We checked out colors, trying to figure out what would go best with macaroni and cheese.

The new dishwasher, which not only washed dishes but rinsed them, cleaned them, dried them and sprinkled them with baby powder, was delivered last week. Almost.

The deliverers pulled into the driveway, came into the house, checked the old dishwasher and said yes, they could deliver the new one. But they couldn’t take out the old one. Well, they could, but they would have to rip up the kitchen floor when they did it. The floor had been put in after the dishwasher was there. It was too high.

It was a stark choice: a new dishwasher or a new floor? A sensor cycle with interactive touch controls or a new floor? An exclusive advanced technology pump or a new floor? Dirty dishes or a new floor?

We decided we’re not eating mac and cheese any more.

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