I loathe doing dishes.
Of all the household chores, it is the one I most despise. More than cleaning toilets. More than mopping floors. Certainly more than laundry.
I would rather clean out the garage than do dishes.
So, would somebody freeking tell me why I am the ONLY ONE in this house that does dishes? Sees dishes? Thinks, man those dishes should really be done?
I'm tempted to ask my lovely husband, who has many wonderful qualities, not the least of which is never-asks-me-to-get-a-job-even-when-I-offer, if he has ever, EVER looked at a sink full of dishes and thought, wow, that's a lot of dishes, I'll bet Jamie would really like it if I did those for her (I would even allow for a continuation of that thought along the lines of maybe I'll get rewarded later...), but I'm afraid of the answer. I truly, truly do not believe he has EVER looked at that sink full of dishes and felt even a smidgen of responsiblity. Not even when we both worked. Not when we were both students. NEVER.
My kids don't either.
They actually had the nerve, THE NERVE, to say in response to, "you've destroyed the whole house"
"we didn't mess up the kitchen or the dining room."
Oh, you didn't, did you? You didn't eat that dinner? You didn't scarf those cookies? Those aren't your cups/plates/forks/spoons/bowls/lunchboxes/foodsmutz/animalcrackersgroundintothefloor? I guess you ARE right. You DIDN'T mess up the kitchen and/or dining room. That isn't your Darth Vader helmet there on the floor. I wore that while preparing your barbecued meatballs with seven side dishes. It makes me happy to do puzzles in between sheets of cookies, but I didn't get that 24 piece one done so I left it there on the floor along with my puppets. I did all that. Let me go clean that up for you.
And when I'm done I'll tackle the rest of the house you ungrateful little angels.
YES, I AM in a snit tonight.
Dishes do that to me.
You're singing my tune, girlfriend. My sister and shared dish duty every night and I H-A-T-E to do dishes.
This is genetically impossible. I try to help your first food supplier, and she tells me to quit it. Something about not doing it right. That is really something from the gal who hides my coffee cup in the dish drainer.
Now where did she hide it this time. Darn coffee cup. I'd wash my own if she didn't always beat me to it. Sr.
Oh, I've worn that post out! Every now and then my hubby will do dishes, but usually it's because I have to work late and there's company coming.
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