So, it's day 9 of snow. My brother isn't going to be able to get here for Christmas because SEA-TAC is closed. The girls are in bed. The presents are wrapped.
But there is still a battle looming. It is my arch nemesis the dishes!
Britton's spiderstick is good for turning humans and dogs into spiders and frogs, but that magical chopstick still hasn't figured out how to wash my dishes.
I harbor a very real grudge against my dishes. They like sitting in my sink, and I want them out.
We battle all the time. I pummel those grubby ol' dishes all up. Put them in the dish rack to dry. Throw them back in the cupboards.
And no matter how far back into retreat I push them, those resourceful dishes gather more forces and attack again.
Here's to all you mighty dish warriors. I salute you.
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5 comments:
I hear you completely. I just finished mine and am making my own retreat to have some me time. Until tomorrow fowl opponent.
HEAR HEAR!!! Nate was complaining the other day that it feels like we always have dirty dishes.. I so kindly reminded him that I am not the only one with two hands and with cook all the time now it makes it double work. I swear I get them all done and not two hours later there back. GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR. :)
Beth, you don't have a dishwasher, do you? That makes me sad. :(
I actually like doing the dishes. Once I put them in the dishwasher, I feel like someone else in my house is working.
I hate Dishes too!! It seems like it never ends, that and laundry. Just as I get all caught up more walk into the sink or hamper. Ah, such is life. As for sleeping on the couch, when the boys get tired they put themselves to sleep on the couch. If I try to move them to their beds, they wake up. Maybe I will get rid of the beds and put the couch in their room. Miss you, how are things going? How is the snow?
Woe be unto the dirty dish pile, for they shall cause so many households turmoil and unrest.
You should do what I did. Start a boycott (well, it was more like a pact, actually) against your dear, sweet husband. It goes like this:
Dishes get cleaned, he gets a lovely dinner. Dishes don't get cleaned, he must forage in the forest for his own grub. Two nights in a row, and it might stink, but the complaints will move from his mouth to his stomach. Three nights in a row, and he will be scrubbing madly at the sink.
Okay, so maybe that only worked for me because Matt won't cook ANYTHING, and I can handle eating cold cereal for several meals in a row to prove I will stick to it.
We made that deal before we were married and, with exceptions like during crazy-busy grad school and the tiring weeks after one of the girls was born, it has stuck rather nicely.
Alas, the battle still rages on. I just delegated the suit of armor to a handsome knight who really, really, likes to eat a hot meal when he gets home from work. ;)
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