Disaster struck the other night – we ran out of dishwashing tablets.
Not as big a disaster as the ref calling up VAR in the Socceroos v France match. But right up there with running out of gas cooking a barbecue, or hot water during a shower.
Caught in the moment, with thoughts immediately turning to moments next morning, when I would need a clean bowl for breakfast. The prospect looming that not only would this be unavailable, but that I might have to wash one by hand, if not the entire load, if someone caught me trying to fly solo.
A crisis moment that tests your champion qualities. And like the stars at the World Cup, we rise to the challenge. Or maybe, writhe. As if the worst thing on earth has occurred. Which is not the case for most soccer players.
But in the case of running out of dishwashing tablets late at night, is right up there with running out of milk next morning. Why weren’t either on the shopping list?!
The sense of calamity was exacerbated because the absence of anymore dishwashing tablets was not yet confirmed. At this stage it was only me who couldn’t see the back-up supply. Didn’t mean it wasn’t there.
Last time I thought we’d run out they had been dutifully in place in the laundry cupboard, or the under sink – I always forget. A giant surplus secured after buying in bulk one week, and then buying again the next, because I’d forgotten I’d bought the week before, and then claiming under prosecution that I’d been going for economies of scale.
Plausibly deniable and fair enough. Talk to anyone who knows dishwashing tablets and they will confirm that not only are they price sensitive per item and should be grabbed when on special, but that there are average dishwashing tablets, and then there are deluxe.
The deluxe versions have the magical “pearls” of whatever it is that promise up to 65 times the cleaning, shining and life affirmation. They also have the wrappers that dissolve, which is perfect for those who tire of their tablets not working because they’re covered in plastic.
These had been them deluxe dishwashing tablets and I had indeed accidentally bought up big and so we had been in surplus for months. Golden days of dishwashing with the expectation that the fairytale would continue, well, forever. A bit like expecting to qualify for the World Cup every four years.
But you can’t take anything for granted in this world. Particularly when it’s you having a man’s look for the, fingers crossed, still-in-surplus surplus box.
Any call for help from people who really know where things are would invite familiar derision. And it duely came. The call and the derision.
Alas this sad night, our worst nightmare arrived before we’d even gone to sleep.
There were no dishwashing tablets left. Not under the sink. Not in the laundry. Not in some holiday stash secreted in a suitcase stored under a bed. Leaving us like Australia v France, lamenting lack of Finish.
