Today I want to head in a new direction. My readers may not know that, until I was 26, I grew up in a Third World country. In contrast to the prejudiced views of certain people, these countries were not—and are not—the trash heaps that they're accused of being. It is rather alarming how large a proportion of journalists in the media are from India, for instance; these countries seem to grow very highly motivated individuals. But, having grown up in Sri Lanka—just think; being as old as I was, I was very much a Sri Lankan when I arrived here, and still am, to some degree—there are a few patterns of thought that are stuck into my brain, like they're glued on.
Having a dishwasher at home, for instance, gradually creates patterns of behavior quite different from those in someone who washed their dishes by hand. Dishwasher people tend to collect dishes inside the dishwasher, until there's enough of a load, and then run the machine, which chugs along without any interference.
People who have been the designated dish washer (in their dishwasher-less homes) in the past, seem to want to pile up dirty dishes in the kitchen sink, until having to wash them is inevitable, at which point they wash the whole lot, and put them in an enormous draining-rack.
The problem I have with this plan is that they sometimes toss things like bread knives in there, too. If you've only got one bread knife in the house, (and most homes are this way,) you've put the bread knife out of use until the stuff in the sink has been washed. This is true of any really large knife.
To anyone who grew up in the wilds of Colombo (I'm being flippant; Colombo was a bustling city by 1700), this is a crazy way of doing things. I would—carefully—wipe the knife clean, and put it back near the bread board. If someone has used it to dig out the last bit of strawberry jam—as you do—well, hold it under the tap (a.k.a. faucet) and then clean it off with a paper towel. No need to hit it with the enzymes (or hormones, or whatever they put in detergent these days).
Many of the things we own—and love—could serve us well for years, and even decades. Ten years from now, we could be looking at something we own with fondness, thinking that the successor to that tool (or whatever it is) is nowhere near as well made as the one we have! Lots of old things are more robust, and made of sturdier materials than their more modern counterparts. It's common sense, therefore, to be ultra careful with the things we own, and which we enjoy the most. Clothes. Shoes. Furniture. Pens! Some of our favorite things are really given a lot of rough use.
A screwdriver, for instance. This humble device can give good service for decades if you never let it slip while tightening (or loosening) a screw. This is especially true of Philips-type screwdrivers.
Now, it could be argued that, this sort of tool is intended to take rough usage, and once the bit is worn smooth, so that it doesn't work anymore, you just buy a new one. Ah, but will the tool you buy in ten years be as good as the one you have now?
Shoes are an excellent example. Sometimes the only problem with a fantastic pair of shoes is that the sole is unevenly worn; perhaps the sole of the left foot is worn down on the outside. If your town has a shoe repairman (a cobbler), he can easily re-sole that shoe (or the pair of shoes) so that they're as good as, or better than, they were when new. Sadly, shoe repair is a dying art, so it behooves one to patronize a shoe repairman before they give up the occupation.
I ought to explain the use of the phrase "with the hands"! When you eat with your fingers—as we did when eating certain foods—you normally wash your hands once you're done. The phrase "With the hands" means: while you're washing your hands at the sink, you may as well wash your plate, too!
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