1 dishwasher, hold the scary logo.

I will try to see my dysfunctional Fisher-Paykel dishdrawers as a charming, but ultimately disappointing, object lesson in why we avoid early-issue technology. Assuming this strategy succeeds, I will manage not to buy an iPad until they’ve discovered the worst kinks, and released a second generation.

However, this plan is of no help whatsoever to my dishes which, at the moment, are being sloshed with steamy water, but not washed in particular. Because, indeed, there were kinks aplenty in the guts and electronics of our prototype double-decker dishwasher. And now, about 5 years into service (and about 8 years after purchase...the kitchen took us a while...) it has this one advantage over letting the dog do the dishes: You can close the drawers and make them disappear.

So, on Thursday, we went to ApplianceLand. To be completely forthcoming, the name of the business is “ApplianceLand, etc.” First let me say that I have always failed to understand why businesses append words such as “city,” “land,” or “world,” to the name of the commodity they’re peddling in order to construct a name. I’d rather they just call it “Filbert’s Appliances.” (Or, if not Filbert, then whatever name is appropriate.) Because an ugly former bank building, with reflective turquoise-mirror windows, at the corner of Route 2 and West Street, is most certainly not a land. I can get over it, because they’ve been reasonable merchants to deal with, but I’m still nagged, just slightly, by the second appendage--that is, “etc.”

ApplianceLand, etc? What does this mean? That they also retain the riparian and mineral rights to this land, and possibly the airspace as well? Important, no doubt, however small and bounded by traffic the land is. (Maybe they should have called it “Appliance Duchy,” or “Appliance Principality.”) At any rate, stupid name or not, I will be completely happy with them when they deliver my new dishwasher, and get it properly installed, in a week. Oh...unless it’s delivered by the mascot:

If I open the door next Saturday, and something that looks like this slithers in, I’m going to be seriously wigged. I’m not exactly sure what this is. As near as I can tell, it is a fiendish female genie wearing a crustacean gown and a Jackie-O pillbox hat, who is gesturing for you to come close enough that she can push you down the garbage disposal. I did not see her in the showroom on Thursday, but the thought of her popping out might make me wary of opening the ovens or fridges on display.

Well, demonic mascots notwithstanding, I’ll be glad to have a functioning dishwasher.