Dish it out

I hate doing dishes.  Hate.  I don't use this term for many chores often, because it's a strong word, but I can use it for dishes.  I would rather vacuum, sweep, mop, dust, caulk, swiffer, re-shingle a roof or clean a toilet over doing the dishes.

I have it pretty good.  Adam and I have an agreement that if I do all the laundry, which I don't mind doing at all, he does the dishes.  I can make a roast dinner for 40 of the messiest people, and he will clean it up, and he can then spill that roast dinner down his clothing, and I will clean it...no questions asked.  It's a sweet deal in my opinion.

"So, Andrea.  Why blog about hating doing the dishes?  Is this a past hate you decided to waste my time about?  Talk about something fun, like your pretty hair!"

No readers!  If you have been following my blog, or know me personally, you'll know my husband has currently abandoned his duties as head dishwasher on Grand Ave. to provide for the family by working aboard the Island Princess.  This leaves me with the daunting task of washing my own dishes.  Trust me, I try to avoid it.  I eat out of disposable items, eat out at family members houses as often as possible ("No, no Mom.  I'm not hungry, well okay maybe just some chicken, mashed potatoes and corn") or like the other day, I used a coffee filter to hold my peanut shells.  (I'm getting pretty personal here folks.)  If I run out of these options, a jenga-like pyramid of our wedding dishes will begin to form in the sink. 
Oh...I also don't have a dishwasher.  Not that this matters, as I hate loading and unloading that too, but I just wanted to point this out so you can really empathize with my loathing.

Now, before I paint a horrible picture of my living conditions, I do the dishes at least once a day, but you'll be amazed at what I can accumulate during that day.  The one thing that makes me tackle the annoying mound daily?  I need the coffee pot each morning, and I need it really clean.  I don't just swish some water around it, I clean it.  So whilst the sink has some suds, I do the other dishes.  But here is my beef.  Today for instance I made peanut butter cookies.  So, after doing my normal 4 hour pre-soak, (this is mandatory) each dish that I washed smelled like peanut butter, and was covered in a buttery film.  So, an additional squirt of Palmolive-Oxy-whatever-was-on-sale soap, and away I go.  I scrubbed the cookie sheet with an S.O.S. pad (aptly named as that's what I wanted to cry out while cleaning) yet shadows of six cookies past remained on the sheet.  My pan became a history of my baking life.  A cookie here, a burnt pizza there.  And then my hands, that feeling of June Cleaver dishpan hands.  Do you mositurize after?  Do you exfoliate?  How long with this filmy feeling last?  Oh, and that water.  Now apparently because hot water is included in my rent that also means it's optional, so my luke warm suds turn grey almost instantly.  I just keep adding bubbles to avoid seeing it which works nicely for me.

And then another pile of dishes is formed in my dish rack, awaiting me in the morning.  I roll my eyes, carefully pull the coffee pot out from under the mound and brew a pot.  Throughout the day I will put away one dish at a time, with the same contempt I had while washing them.  Because I know, that before long, I will have to put my sandwich on something other than a magazine (which can also substitute for a plate) and will have to wash it a few hours later, again!  And so the cycle continues.

So there's my rant.  My point is, someone must come up with one of two things. 
A) A set of self-cleaning Gordon Ramsay dishes to replace my current non-self cleaning ones. 
Or B) A way to fly my husband home from the Caribbean Sea so I don't have to wash another dish again, or more importantly write a blog about something so rediculous.  

Be glad I didn't write about killing spiders, because that's the other thing I will not do around the house, but alas, I've had to step up and take over.  I'm a pretty good husband if I do say so myself!