You know that grill I love? Well, it came time to do some serious cleaning on it, and I threw the grates in the dishwasher. (No, I didn't ruin it - everything's okay with the grill. Calm down.) But I did make a mess of things.
The grates (or whatever they're called) didn't exactly get clean. My husband, who is all wise (kinda) knew that the dishwasher wouldn't get them clean. But he lovingly stood by and let me put them in the dishwasher anyway. Because even though he doesn't know everything, he is smart enough to know that he should just stand back and let me do my thing. Especially when I think I'm right, and especially when it comes to the dishwasher.
What he doesn't think I know is that when it came time to use the grill, he had to wash the grates by hand after they went through the dishwasher. And the sweet man didn't say a word about it to me. Not one I told you so. He did mention that the dishwasher was a mess. There were little bits of black flake all over the bottom. And what did I say to that? Nah. It's not a big deal. It won't leave a mess.
So guess what? It did leave a mess. I had to run the last load of dishes through the dishwasher twice. And rinse all of the glasses separately. Everything was covered in the little black flakes.
Here it is folks, one of the only times you'll hear me say this: Honey, you were right. The dishwasher wasn't the right thing to do. I should have washed them by hand. And the black flakes did make a mess out of everything. But all is fixed, and all is clean. And I won't do it again.
(Now hurry and memorize this, because I don't like to admit I was wrong. I may just delete this entry so there is no proof of my errors. And I may delete it soon. Hurry!)