My sink is magic. I kid you not. It can make things disappear; it can make things appear. I doubt the previous owners of the house knew they were installing a magic sink. It certainly wasn't in the realtor's description when we bought the house.
For Sale: Family-sized, 1 and 1/2 bath, four bedroom garrison colonial.
Needs work. Previous owners taste awful, so here is an opportunity to impose
your own style. Unfinished basement. Huge living room, additional family
room, open dining room to kitchen designed for comfortable gatherings.
Bonus: magic sink.
No, I'm fairly sure it didn't say that.
When I walk into my kitchen, all day every day, there are dishes in the sink. I usually empty it first thing in the morning, loading everything into the dishwasher. Whew! That's done. I sweep the floors, sometimes run the steam mop, clean the counters etc. Not like I didn't do it the night before, it just always needs doing again in the morning. I sit down with my coffee and check my email. I return to the kitchen for a refill. VIOLA!
Dishes in the sink. How did that happen? Empty it again. The dishwasher is usually full by now, so I put in some detergent and turn it on. I might start in on cleaning the toy room now. Back into the kitchen to fill a cup for Alex. VIOLA! Dishes in the sink again. Okay, now I have to empty the dishwasher just to get these in. Done. Go do something else for awhile. And later, as I pass through the kitchen again, maybe getting some food and water for hungry dogs... VIOLA!
My word! It is like magic, there were no dishes and now there are dishes. I look around, seeing no one who could have possibly put them there, and I marvel at the amazing abilities of my mystical sink.
But that's not all it can do. Things disappear. Spoons mostly. Sometimes forks. A dishrag. I think the sink takes these items as payment or tips for it's daily routine performances.
And after dinner, the kids carefully trained to be told not once, not twice, but fully three times before clearing their plates-- I empty the sink and load it all into my dishwasher. Again, the job is done. Fin.
Until an hour or so later, when I walk by and find the sink has once again astounded me, against the odds, and mysteriously produced another pile of dishes. They sit there waiting for me to remove them. I do. But as I do this, I know that overnight that sink will once again perform producing not one, not two, not even three, but a sinkful of dishes for me to marvel at in the morning.
Yes. It must be magic.
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For Sale: Family-sized, 1 and 1/2 bath, four bedroom garrison colonial.
Needs work. Previous owners taste awful, so here is an opportunity to impose
your own style. Unfinished basement. Huge living room, additional family
room, open dining room to kitchen designed for comfortable gatherings.
Bonus: magic sink.
No, I'm fairly sure it didn't say that.
When I walk into my kitchen, all day every day, there are dishes in the sink. I usually empty it first thing in the morning, loading everything into the dishwasher. Whew! That's done. I sweep the floors, sometimes run the steam mop, clean the counters etc. Not like I didn't do it the night before, it just always needs doing again in the morning. I sit down with my coffee and check my email. I return to the kitchen for a refill. VIOLA!
Dishes in the sink. How did that happen? Empty it again. The dishwasher is usually full by now, so I put in some detergent and turn it on. I might start in on cleaning the toy room now. Back into the kitchen to fill a cup for Alex. VIOLA! Dishes in the sink again. Okay, now I have to empty the dishwasher just to get these in. Done. Go do something else for awhile. And later, as I pass through the kitchen again, maybe getting some food and water for hungry dogs... VIOLA!
My word! It is like magic, there were no dishes and now there are dishes. I look around, seeing no one who could have possibly put them there, and I marvel at the amazing abilities of my mystical sink.
But that's not all it can do. Things disappear. Spoons mostly. Sometimes forks. A dishrag. I think the sink takes these items as payment or tips for it's daily routine performances.
And after dinner, the kids carefully trained to be told not once, not twice, but fully three times before clearing their plates-- I empty the sink and load it all into my dishwasher. Again, the job is done. Fin.
Until an hour or so later, when I walk by and find the sink has once again astounded me, against the odds, and mysteriously produced another pile of dishes. They sit there waiting for me to remove them. I do. But as I do this, I know that overnight that sink will once again perform producing not one, not two, not even three, but a sinkful of dishes for me to marvel at in the morning.
Yes. It must be magic.
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