A Miraculous Machine

YOU GUYS.

A man just came to my house and brought me a machine that washes my dishes for me.

Sounds crazy, right? But here’s proof:

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A much better invention than sliced bread (ps: sorry, too lazy to crop out my unmopped floor)

Truly, there is nothing like spending nearly a month without a dishwasher to make you realize that we live in the future, and it absolutely is all it’s cracked up to be.

Just in time, too, because today marks day 1 of our Whole30. I did one last year, but this year I’m dragging the Ogre along with me, since he recently had his cholesterol checked and is basically a solid. So, massive diet overhaul FTW!

But damn if the W30 doesn’t require stupid amounts of cooking, thereby generating stupid amounts of dishes. If I had to face loads of cooking plus sugar withdrawal without a dishwasher, I would probably die.

I’m really excited about exactly one W30 thing, and that’s this:

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Ignore the coconut milk latte, because it’s gross and I’m 100% not excited about that

The most delicious hash ever. I relied so heavily on this hash when I did my first Whole30 that I was able to make it from memory, despite not having made it in nearly a year. I ate it for breakfast and for most lunches every single day, and never once got sick of it. Because it is amazing.

However, I am not excited about anything else. Well, the mood-stabilizing effects of not eating sugar are nice, but not as nice as eating sugar. I’m particularly dreading dinners, since (like everything) they require lots of effort, and I can’t even drink wine while cooking, thus making it not nearly as fun. The children are really excited about it, though. They love eating meat and vegetables and never having dessert, ever.

 

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Wait, what?

Oh and speaking of the Ogre, guess what he did while I was in babymoon-land?

He cut his hair.

I know, it’s tragic. I cried a little bit. And despite the fact that I really do like his new haircut, I’m still going to be in mourning for the ponytail for a while. Although it is amusing to watch him struggle with foreign things like styling cream and a hair dryer, and I relish being able to say “welcome to my life” every time he complains about how the humidity destroys every hair it touches. Because I’m nothing if not mature.

Anyway, Stormageddon just woke up so I need to go smooch his enormous cheeks and then give him a bath, since he’s starting to smell like cheese. Be back tomorrow, and I promise to be super cranky and in the desperate throes of sugar withdrawal.

Get excited.

 

 

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