Dishpan hubris

002“Dishpan hubris”… hey, is that a googlewhack or what?  Sigh, no, of course not.  There are no good googlewhacks these days.  And apparently, there are 6,630 websites related to “dishpan hubris.”

But my cautionary tale is the very essence, the epitome, the Yertle the Turtle, as it were, of dishpan hubris.

Last month in StupourStore, I caught sight, for the fabulous low price (the sticker said so and everything!) of only $5.99, of a great big honking dish basin.


Waaay bigger than the regular-sized Rubbermaid one we were using.  So I grabbed it, thinking, “this will make my life SOooo easy; soaking pots, holding a bazillion dishes!”  My Life as a Homemaker… those really are the thoughts I think about.

So I brought it home and immediately noticed a problem:  it is bigger than the sink it sits in.  It is higher than the counters.  And… even worse… if it’s too close to the edge of the sink, the lip of the basin hitches itself up onto the counter, and when it overflows, as all basins do eventually, the water flows NOT into the sink, but onto the counter and, ultimately, down to the floor where my feet really, really like to stay dry.

So:  Problem #1, flowing wetness.  Solved by conscientiously pushing the basin ‘till it’s equidistant from every side of the sink.

Then came Problem #2, engulfing wetness.  You see, some of our dish gloves, particularly the Dollarama variety, are rather short.  Shorter than the depth of the new dishbasin.  So you have to kind of mince around with the dishes while keeping an eye on the end of the glove to ensure that it is not engulfed by the rising tide of dishwater.

And then, there’s Problem #3, encroaching dishes.  You can see in the picture that when the new basin is full-up, especially if it’s been filled haphazardly (and when isn’t it?), there’s only about a centimetre’s clearance between dishes and faucet.  So if you want to relax with a cup of tea before tackling the dishes, you have to tackle them anyway to shove them out of the way or stack them more efficiently… or fill up the kettle somewhere else.

There is a moral in this, and it ain’t a pretty one.  Bigger ain’t necessarily better, and the new ain’t necessarily better than the old.  Plus:  ain’t is a pretty versatile word, come to think of it… when yer just plain folksy-folk like me.

No, what I have learned, dear reader(s), is this:  a bigger dishbasin can’t necessarily bring greater peace or cleaner dishes to my home.  Mostly, it just serves to remind me of how many durn dishes there are to wash in the first place.

Anybody want a nearly-new dishbasin?  It’s huge!  You’ll be the envy of all your friends!


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