bitching and moaning

i have a pet peeve. it involves Bitter Half doing the dishes. now, i live in a nice area of town in an inexpensive apartment. the reason my rent is dirt cheap is because the apartments were built in the stone ages. in fact, the complex is pretty much carved out of a cave that had the primitive drawings whitewashed off the walls. anyhow, my dish washer is pathetically old. it doesn't have fifty jet spray nozzles with whisper quiet action, and it doesn't come in colors that soothe the eye. you can't overfill it, and you absolutely must prewash all dishes. i figure that's fine since my rent consists of a fraction of other peoples'. no matter how long B.H. has lived here and no matter how many times i've lectured him, he stuffs, crams, jams, and squeezes our entire dish supply into the damn thing. he also firmly believes a pass under the faucet constitutes prewashing. i always have to rewash and redo the dishes when he loads the washer. he's probably fine with the way the dishes come out of the machine after he loads it and would be happy sticking those disgusting dishes into the cabinets. why? because he's a man. okay. i'm done bitching and moaning. (for now, that is.)