More Little Theories
What do rubber-bands, relationships and dishwashers have in common?
Today I offer another Little Theory: this one about rubber-bands, which proves an apt metaphor for human relationships and household appliances.
What comes to mind when I mention rubber-bands?
I think of childhood ponytails, which we secured with bands from home-delivered newspapers.
Today I find rubber-bands embracing store-bought spinach and broccoli.
That means I need to wash the rubber-bands for future employment.
Rubber-bands are full of dirt.
So I wash them.
I load them in the dishwasher, placing them carefully in the silverware basket, safe from the propellers of the magic machine.
I figure the dishwasher saves me time and there’s no extra effort in cleansing the rubber-bands along with the spoons and forks.
I learned this technique from my mum, who would bathe household keys in the dishwasher.
She would take your keys, remove the ring, and run them through a cycle.
Truth is, rubber-bands are a metaphor for relationships and a litmus test for compatibility.
When you are fresh in a relationship, the rubber-band of romance stretches all the way to Alaska’s Denali mountain-top.
My stretch came when I learned of my mate’s kitchen skills.
He made us dinner.
I tucked into Trader Joe’s tofu dogs slathered in bottled spaghetti sauce.
Slowly the rubber-band relaxed back to its former shape as I replaced the salty dogs and tomato sauce with fish and fresh greens.
Then, one day, the dishwasher shuttered and died.
Seems a rubber-band got wrapped around the gear of the motor.
See, said the worker-bee, pulling out the motor and showing me and my sweetheart the motor, choked to death with a clean rubber-band.
We paid for a new motor and labor and parts, and I waited for the relationship rubber-hand to stretch into the combat zone.
But there was no judgment.
Just the calm acceptance that comes with washed keys and clean rubber-bands.
And fresh greens.
4 April 2019