At the rental, our dishwasher sounded something like a cross between a jet plane and an earthquake. Only louder and more disruptive. Which I would inevitably forget until I turned on the dishwasher while on the phone (what can I say, talking makes me domestic, busy hands and all). This would usually spur a quick dash across the house while trying to fake having heard the last couple of sentences. "Oh really? Uhhunh. Wow! Hm." So imagine my total, absolute, unmitigated bliss when we moved in, loaded up the dishwasher, and heard...nothing. (Well, my total, absolute, unmitigated bliss once I realized that yes, it was actually working.) I revel in it. Now I stand around after I have started the dishwasher gleefully listening to the silence and pointing it out to anyone unlucky enough to be within earshot.
Just for the record, I know "quietude" isn't a word, but it's my blog and I'll be cute if I wanna be.
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