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. . .do not go in the garbage disposal. Enough said, right?
I was trying to sort through dishes last night to decide which ones would go in the dishwasher and which would be washed by hand. Normally, most go in the dishwasher, but with all the baking I’m doing, I wanted to make sure I could get them right away instead of waiting for the dishwasher. The water was going down the sink so slowly that I flipped on the disposal.
It made a very strange clunking, choking sound.
I shut it off and looked inside. . .to see my dishcloth at the bottom. Grr. It must’ve been pushed down there with the water I was running. Stephen heard the noise and came running, and pulled it out for me. I fully expected it to be shredded to bits, but strangely enough, it wasn’t.