Jon

In addition to what seems like a hundred million unforeseen costs of moving into this house, we had to buy a new dishwasher this week. The original one was very picky about which dishes it wanted to clean, and sometimes it wouldn’t choose any. Like that one time we had 35 family members over for burgers. The dishwasher said, you know what? I don’t like Mormons. You can’t make me.

We had the new one installed yesterday, and Jon ran the first load last night. I thanked him for not seasoning the griddle before I had a chance to see it. Inside joke, but it reminded me of Sarah’s guest post about Janice. Because when we lived in our first house we saved up for over a year to buy a really nice range. About twenty seconds after they delivered it, Jon tried to season the griddle. I wasn’t home at the time, hadn’t seen this beautiful stainless steel appliance in our house FINALLY, and when I got home the house was filled with smoke so thick I couldn’t see two feet in front of me.

He had almost set the house on fire.

I don’t know what he did to try and season that griddle, it didn’t matter. I was furious that he couldn’t wait thirty minutes for me to get home and see the appliance in its original state JUST ONCE. He did not understand why I was upset, and I was like, UGH! He gets a new toy and he can’t control himself. Lawn mower, stainless steel range, leaf blower, remote control, doesn’t matter: he must play with it immediately upon possession.

And last night I realized I’m going to be sitting at lunch with friends one day, and the conversation is going to turn in such a way that I’m going to go, WHOA. You’re dealing with a premature griddle seasoner. I TOTALLY KNOW WHAT YOU’RE GOING THROUGH.