we have a kitchen in our office. we all take turns cleaning it. normally that happens at 5 pm. my cleaning "buddy" Jef decided to start early without telling me. When i got in there, he was done except that he was having trouble starting the dishwasher. I turned it on and that was all did.
This was his version of the story which he emailed me this morning:
It was late yesterday afternoon… the sun hidden behind of pillow of clouds, wind blowing the rain vehemently against the foggy glass, pounding as though in response to Jef’s inability to start the dishwasher. Then – the voice from within – many voices, laughing, snickering, taunting: “You’ll never clean us! We’ll be dirty forever! Haha haha ha!”
Button after button he pushed; switches on the walls, frantic rambling, talking – no – crying to himself: “Where?!, O, where is the ‘on’ button!?”. Tears began to flow, sobs filled the kitchen as in desperation. Jef felt the blow of defeat. His kitchen duties were ending as soon as they began – failure – all was lost.
“Kendra? Kendra? Is that you?” A shadow of hope entered the pantry, almost unnoticed, yet visible, nonetheless. Dancing like Peter Pan’s ‘Tinkerbell’, she floated through the air, singing, gleaming as her face shone brighter and brighter, until finally from her mouth poured the words: “Yes – I’ve come to start the dishwasher!”
The plates quieted.
The wind calmed.
The clouds broke.
The sun shone.
And music – oh, the music, as the pitter-patter of the dishwasher promised pleasant dreams to all.