Oh yes, I have enemies. And they are large in number. They wait silently, growing more and more vile each hour. When I finally think I have rid my life of them...they come back stronger and more numerous than before. They plot against me, looking for any weakness to exploit.
I hate dirty dishes. I'm talking HATE. And I hate washing them even more. When I worked full time, I could escape the crockery mockery for hours. Then when I came home, I could justify not washing them because spending time with my kids took priority. But now I'm home pretty much all the time minus church, pre-school, and errands to exotic and exciting places like Wal-Mart. So those dastardly dishes have been wearing me down slowly...methodically...
It didn't help that our dishwasher was probably the first one ever made. Sure, it matched the 1960's cabinets to perfection, but it certainly didn't wash dishes. So since it breathed it's last sputtering breath a couple months ago, it has been sitting forlorn and neglected. Not even Frank was willing to fix it. I wonder if there is a booming market for antique dishwashers?
So I have been washing dishes the old fashioned way. Some days were good. I would psych myself up and go at it with gusto, putting a good CD in to lessen the pain and suffering. Some days were bad. I would shun the crusty crocks altogether and dive into my stash of paper goods if things got desperate.
But there is hope, my friends. There is hope!! I have been saved from Palm Olive peril. My loving husband, recognizing my dire circumstances, found a "sweet deal" on a dishwasher and gave it to me on Christmas Eve. His co-workers warned him that buying a dishwasher for your wife for Christmas could have epic and disastrous consequences akin to being the captain of the Titanic...but Frank assured them that he knew me well and that it was a gift I would like.
He was right. While a dishwasher is not exactly the epitome of romance, it is something I secretly was wishing for. But I didn't ask. It was just too big. However, I am not ashamed to say that when it was revealed, I clapped my hands like a little kid on Christmas morning and I gave the dishwasher a small hug.
You're going DOWN putrid pans. And the filthy flatware is going with you. Mu ha ha!!
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- My Arch Nemesis
- How Does One Write a Bio?
- H-E Double Hockey Sticks May Be Freezing Over...
- Then and Now
- Twilight Zone
- Stop the Presses!! There's a Generic Slanket!!
- Being Pulled
- The Fabled Christmas Program
- Writer's Block
- Prayer Request
- Having a Bad Hair Day?
- The Soundtrack In My Head
- ▼ December (15)