Happy Friday. I’m thrilled to announce we’re back with more Hot Bones (finally!), as I have officially wrapped The 12 Days of NyQuil. Glad to be able to operate heavy machinery at will — and write newsletters again. 

And one of the most amazing parts about writing a newsletter, I’m just now finding out, is that sometimes you talk about things like what to do with a Christmas tree once the holidays are over, and then your spouse not only reads that edition, but then drags your tree outside, hacks the branches into little bits, and scatters the remains over the azaleas. What romance.

One day a few months into the pandemic, G and I put our coffee mugs in the dishwasher and pressed go — then we typed for eight hours straight upstairs, and when we went back into the kitchen that evening, the dishwasher was still running.

Visions of next month’s power bill flashed neon. And then a flashforward to all the logistics we’d have to endure if we called a plumber to come take a look: 

Well if the dishwasher is in the kitchen they’ll have to walk through the whole house and we can ask them to wear a mask but the company can’t guarantee it so we could bring up all the fans from the basement and open all the windows and I’ll take four hours off work to be ready during that window if you’ll disinfect every surface on the main floor afterward. 

So I guess we’ll try to fix this ourselves?

But the thing about trying to fix a dishwasher without technical assistance is that, unlike other more plainspoken appliances, all the buttons are hidden inside the machine to preserve that lovely industrial baking sheet look. 

Which meant each time I opened it to try and see what was going on, the same childhood fear flooded back — that 30 gallons of sudsy water would gush out onto the kitchen floor. Thankfully, after I pulled the dishwasher open for the thirtieth time that day, I realized this was as far-fetched as the “if you turn on the backseat light at night the car will instantly crash” lie our parents told us.

At some point, G started watching youtube videos — “Bosch dishwasher not stopping help” — and I dug out the user manual buried in the junk drawer. We pressed a bunch of buttons in complex combinations, then closed the door and listened? Like, there’s not much else two English majors can do. Maybe we laid our hands on the machine and felt the vibrations, listening for pulsing in iambic pentameter. 

“Ok, I think it’s draining now.”

“How can you tell?”

“It’s making gurgling noises.”

“Not swooshing noises?”

“No that’s definitely a drain-y gurgle. That’s what the videos said.”

“Let’s check.”

“Hmmm why don’t you check first.”

Late, late that night we finally got the dishwasher to rinse, drain, sit, and stay. 

And then for the next TWO YEARS we lived with that semi-broken dishwasher. 

It wasn’t too bad because we had a routine. I wish I had taken a photo of the directions we built from aquatic trial and error, but I think I can actually write most of it from memory.

Somehow this was all preferable to handwashing a dozen mugs and a few handful of utensils. So I guess our instinct was right on that at least. 

After two years of biweekly dishwasher rodeos, I’m a firm believer in how efficient and pleasant these machines can be. When used properly, they’re a huge sustainability hack (and money saver). It’s just that for many of us, they’re literal black boxes. 

And there’s absolutely no reason to gatekeep this info. It hits the climate trifecta! Saving us money + giving us back time + helping the planet. 

So in lieu of a national awareness campaign, I’m devoting the rest of the newsletter to breaking down a few dishwasher myths. 

Going to tamp down this heated debate with a few choice stats:

The math is mathin even for me here. Plus, according to Energy Star, all those skipped scrubs add up to 230 hours of personal time saved every year — unless of course your most amazing roommate cooks the most amazing meal and leaves 5 million non-dishwasher-safe pots and pans as your responsibility. Then you don’t get those 230 hours.

Also, using an Energy Star-dishwasher can cut your utility bills (water, electric) by about $210 annually, which translates to about $3,200 of lifetime savings for you and your fam.

Nope! Skip this step. I mean, scrape off the obvious guac chunks and chicken bits, but that’s all you need to do.

That’s because dishwashers are actually a lot smarter than I give them credit for (except for Boschs), and they have something called a “turbidity sensor” that gauges how dirty the water is during the pre-rinse phase.

This one is another math equation: If washing your dishes by hand takes up to 27 gallons of water and a dishwasher uses 6, then a half-full dishwasher that leaves Philadelphia at 6pm and a sponge that leaves DC at 3pm going 30 miles an hour will meet at water savings station somewhere along the way.

Basically, a half load uses just as much energy and water as a full load, so it’s best to fill er up when you can, but a half load isn’t as huge a sin as your parents made it seem because remember just one night of hand-washing dishes takes up to 27 gallons. 

🧼 Bonus: Not all dishwasher pellets are created equal. Big fans of ones that aren’t coated in plastic, like Blueland’s pellets and Dirty Lab’s powder.

🎥 Bonus bonus: If you want to see what actually goes on in your dishwasher once you close the door, check out this video of a guy who put a GoPro inside.