I don't function well in chaos, whether it be my sheets or the dishwasher.

Water doesn't hurt a vinyl record. Put it into a dishwasher and you're fine.

I have to clean my room and unload the dishwasher, wash the pans, and feed the dogs.

I have to admit that I'm one of those people that thinks the dishwasher is a miracle.

I was a dishwasher at one of those Japanese places that cook on your table. Not too fun.

My father, who worked as a dishwasher, was especially anxious. He did not like being here undocumented.

As for money - when I have it, it's great. When I don't, I go get some. I've been a dishwasher, a gardener, a cleaner.

The last thing I want my robot to be is sarcastic. I want them to be pragmatic and reliable - just like my dishwasher.

My family keeps me pretty grounded. Like if I try anything diva, they're like, 'Oh shut up. Go and do the dishwasher.'

The dishwasher is the best invention in the world, I didn't grow up with one so it's my prize possession in the kitchen!

Japanese chefs believe our soul goes into our knives once we start using them. You wouldn't put your soul in a dishwasher!

First, I am definitely going to give some money to my mission program at church, and then I have to get my mom a dishwasher.

Writing isn't manual labor. Nor is it emptying the dishwasher or paying bills. It's work, sure, but sometimes it should be fun.

For me, it's about being at home and living a life. Taking the dog for a walk, doing the shopping, emptying the dishwasher, going for a run.

I have never really cooked, don't know how to use my dishwasher, and subsist mainly on prepared deli takeout. I don't even eat in restaurants much.

I got fired when I was a dishwasher at Denny's. That set me back a little bit. You don't realize how important dishwashers are until you do the job.

They say, 'We will give you money, but we want you to play this or that.' And I always thought, 'If I'm going to do that, I might as well go back and be a dishwasher.'

Cooking can be rewarding when it is a choice and no longer the onerous duty of the housewife, and when a dishwasher can lighten the load at the other end of the process.

I was a coat checker, a dishwasher, a waitress, and those were some of the happiest times of my life because I still got to do my writing. You're lucky when you can work and then do your art.

I always mention stacking the dishwasher - any opportunity. But it's the consequences - it's the food poisoning and the potential death that will come with not loading the dishwasher properly.

When I went to FC Groningen, I had to take my bike to training - my first wage went on driving lessons. Before I signed my contract, I was 15 or 16 and working as a dishwasher in a Breda restaurant.

People want to imagine that I have this amazing life. That I never change nappies, unload the dishwasher or have to wait in for the plumber, and that's OK, but the reality is I do do all these things!

Remember when Japan was cool? We used to run around with 'Mr. Roboto' on our Walkmans, 'The Karate Kid' in our Betamaxes and wore T-shirts embossed with the characters for 'storm sewer' and 'dishwasher.'

If you have had the same dishwasher for 10 years or more, don't bother repairing it. The average dishwasher is expected to last nine years, and you've most likely squeezed as much life out of it as you can.

I've taken regular gigs, I've worked in grocery stores, worked as a dishwasher, a porter in different places, all for survival. I don't feel bad about doing it. I wished I could have done better. And still do.

I run a tight ship. The kids are responsible for their own chores. Each morning they unload the dishwasher from the night before then collect eggs from our chickens, and I cook those while they get ready for school.

My husband is old-fashioned and kind, he does the greatest Sinatra impression, and I'd never have written anything if he hadn't read all those bedtime stories and unloaded the dishwasher while I slaved over chapters.

I was dishwasher, then promoted to chef in a local kitchen in a restaurant in Seattle, and I was working on a building site as well, putting in insulation and painting houses, and then doing some classes at a community college nearby.

Between finishing emails, loading the fridge, unloading the dishwasher, getting our son to eat his chicken nuggets and my dog to swallow her pill, it takes approximately 32 days for my husband and I to complete a discussion and 46 to wrap up a fight.

Ninety-eight percent of the singing I did was private singing - it was in the shower, at the dishwasher, driving my car, singing with the radio, whatever. I can't do any of that now. I wish I could. I don't miss performing, particularly, but I miss singing.

I go home and don't get treated any differently. People have known me all my life and are interested and very supportive but because they have known me forever I don't get any diva treatment. My mum still tells me off if I haven't loaded the dishwasher for her.

I live in, literally, the same home when I was swiping my first bank card and wondering if I'd have to put back the Charmin. We still don't have a dishwasher. My mom has done all these gardens so now my house looks like the garden shack in the middle of Versailles.

When you turn from one room to the next, when your animal senses no longer perceive the sounds of the dishwasher, the ticking clock, the smell of a chicken roasting - the kitchen and all its seemingly discrete bits dissolve into nothingness - or into waves of probability.

Work done by other people sounds easy. How hard can it be to take care of a newborn who sleeps 20 hours a day? How hard can it be to keep track of your billable hours? To travel for one night for business? To get a 4-year-old ready for school? To return a few phone calls? To load the dishwasher? To fill out some forms?

I worked as a draftsman for the Department of Environmental Protection, and as a teacher, in N.Y.C.; at a big bank and a small ad agency, a tiny law firm and a few giant ones; as a cashier and a dishwasher; preparing deli sandwiches and stringing tennis racquets and pruning evergreens into conical Christmas-tree shapes.

While we women dilly-dally, making decisions, leaving jobs half done, forgetting where we've put the house keys while we water the Hoover and leave the laundry in the dishwasher, men, like blinkered horses, look straight ahead, oblivious to peripheral vision, where a discarded pile of wet towels might have caught their eye.

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