Some of the things in life:
1) When I’ve been visiting relatives that have numerous rug-rats, and watch the sink fill and pile high with dishes. I can’t take it anymore after washing the same cup over and over again whereas not to add to the pile, so I break down and decide to wash them myself.
It might take 2 days…
As I begin to wash the dishes and see some type of progress (dishes not falling to the floor when the pile is disturbed) I start looking around for strays.
I’m not doing this again.
I’m gonna DO THEM ALL and have the “punched credit” of having washed the dishes for future avoidance of afore-mentioned duties.
I open the refrigerator and look for dishes that are empty, half empty, contain obvious clinical lab experiments and/or penicillin cultures. (My sister is famous for storage of well cured and aged foods) I think it must be a religious thing with her. I’ve only seen such zealotry in other cases like UFO joy rides or Jehovah Witness door to door.
After choking back my breakfast and donning surgical gloves (no…really) I start dumping the contents into a trash bag. (I double lined a couple of bags, some of this stuff looks like it could burn thru one bag.) Gunner the puppy is sitting there watching me. His head cocks to one side when he hears the plop of gunk as it falls into the bags.
Then, as I have started to dump the 2nd Tupperware monstrosity, Gunner’s ears perk up and he shakes his head. He turns away and lopes for the couch, looking over his shoulder as if though the gunk might crawl out of the bags and come after him. He jumps onto the couch and hunkers down behind covers and nephews and nieces. I can only see his eyes and ears now. He watches me as I continue dumping excremental entrée’s. I hear him snort every once in a while. I feel his pain.
There is now room in the refrigerator and they won’t have to play “milk chess” to get the milk out.
So, I have accomplished just a bit. I return to the pile of dishes and enter my Zen Jedi meditative stage. I put my Hypochondriatic Paranoia aside and dive into the pile.
I stop occasionally to eat, shower, pray and take some more antibiotics. I have to drain the water out when it starts to look like a land fill, and rinse the sink, wash the sink out, refill the sink and dump in more dishes. Rinse…repeats
I just splashed some dish water onto my newly pedicured right toes. I have to stop and wipe off my foot, let it air dry and exfoliate profusely in case something soaked thru my skin. Looks okay…
I am extremely anal about clean dishes. This is related once again to the earlier mentioned sister. She was smarter than the rest of us kids. She gained a bad reputation as a terrible dish-washer. My dad always told people that when Sharon washed dishes we could always tell what we had for dinner the night before. She is why paper plates were invented.
I wash the dishes with wire, Teflon and steel scrubber brushes. I use rags. I use knives and spoons to scrape off stubborn meat loaf and BBQ sauce. Sometimes soaking in boiling water just doesn’t cut it. You’ve got to get some elbow and hips into it baby!
If you say that you’ve never got the hips working while scrubbing dishes then you’re a liar. Men consider it a type of fore-play, or you’re just doing it on purpose to get them to attack you, thus being able to blame us for the dishes not getting done (I can’t believe we still fall for it)….Why do you think your significant other always comes up from behind while you’re scrubbing hard and slips his hands down the back of your pants… or reaches around and grabs your hoo-ha’s…? We do this out of concern to keep your hoo-ha’s from pitching around, knowing this could cause you to fall down and hurt yourself.
And here’s the kicker…We know what you’re doing when y’all complain and protest that its OUR FAULT the dishes aren’t getting done! But, we can’t control ourselves, there’s nothing hotter than a spouse or BF/GF at the sink with soapy water up to their elbows and swinging those hips, bumping their groins against the edge of the sink, perspiration on their forehead and the back of their neck. Swinging…scrubbing, thrusting…..What the hell am I talking about now!!! Crap…I gotta go change my shorts and take a shower. I’ll be back in a minute.
No wonder women control the earth….
Okay, I’m back.
I only took a quick 3 minute shower. I can if I want to…It’s my soap and I can wash everything as fast as I want to….
I’ve lost the desire to finish the dishes for a bit. My hands are wrinkled by extended water and soap exposure. They look and feel weird. I’m gonna refill the sink and let them soak some more while I finish this post.
Beside…I’m a man Dammit! I’m supposed to be out hunting and fishing! Not Susie Home-maker!
A Man’s place is not in the kitchen!!!
I can’t help it if I’m barefoot and look pregnant.