Thirteen-year-old me would be shocked to hear this, but I love washing dishes. Strategically analyzing the optimal washing order to maximize space in the dish drainer while also saving the greasiest, sauciest, stickiest items for last, the satisfaction of wiping the newly-cleared counters, signaling a job well done, the dry skin stretching tightly over my hands between drying them and having the motivation to get some lotion out of my room. My heart was initially softened to the dishwashing process at Greyhouse. While I loved pouring lattes and conversing with customers as I served them, the dishwashing station offered a…