The dishwasher died.
It has been over a year now since I started washing our dishes by hand. At first I enjoyed it. The dishwasher had been dying slowly for a while and was doing a pretty poor job by the end, so I was happy to be getting the dishes actually clean. "It's such a satisfying feeling," I told my hubby, "getting everything all nice and clean!" Yeah, nice.
Fast forward to now. Satisfaction lessening, irritation increasing. The other day I found myself standing in the kitchen giving serious thought to smashing every last dirty dish. "Now that would feel satisfying!" I thought, "But wait, then I would have that mess to clean up. Maybe I could just throw them all out and buy new dishes? That's it; all brand new dishes! But, I would have to wash them before we could use them. I guess I might as well just wash these ones. Ho hum."