There are two chores I REALLY hate doing and one of them is definitely the dishes.
It feels futile. Hopeless and overwhelming. Inevitably, as soon as I finish washing them, I’m thirsty. And I want some milk. And now a glass is dirty again. Sweet baby Jesus, when will it ever end?!?!!?
Not gonna lie. Sometimes… I just don’t do them.
And this happens.
But it’s ok, because I’ve got a few dishes. And, er, I’m not necessarily above using my cutting board as a plate in a pinch. So I continue to slink by, just tossing more plates, bowls and measuring cups that double just fine for soup into the mess.
Until there is nothing left.
To give you a full idea of how much I hate doing dishes and the lengths I will go to in order to avoid doing them… this is usually when I eat takeout for a night.
But then they have to be done. You can only avoid the sink so long before there are no dishes left. AND you start to wonder exactly how strong those Combat roach traps are – can they really combat this? Let’s not find out.
So I turn up the tunes and after a few Tom Cruise 80’s underwear-esque dance moves are broke (emphasis on broke), I get down to business. I remember that it’s not SO bad.
Um, for like 5 dishes, maybe. You know, the amount I would’ve had to clean daily if I weren’t such a slob. Cleaning two plates, a glass and some silverware is no big thing.
Tackling the Mt. Vesuvius of dishes is. Your back starts to hurt from the awkward half hunched position of bending over the sink. Your fingers go pruney. There’s some really alarming stuff floating in the water. It’s probably ebola in the making… good lord, who knows what it is? And I ATE that three days ago. Ugh.
Finally, I approach the end and there, lurking at the bottom of the mess, is the pot. The pot that I inevitably burnt something in… because, I should probably also mention, I am a horrible, horrible cook. And if I’d only had a brain, I’d’ve scrubbed that gross mess the night it happened.
Instead, I just threw it into the sink and added some water. You know. To soak. In my mind, this “soak”ing magically eats all the bad stuff out and provides me with a nice, clean pot. Did I mention that I’m also pretty delusional? No one lies to me as good as I do.
Seeing that soaking has failed (again. Seriously sink, WTF? Get with the program), I realize that the alarming crust has now sunk it’s scary, barnacled teeth deep into the pot. An hour, AN HOUR!?!?!!, later, I am finally done scrubbing. The dishes are done.
I’ve learned my lesson.
HAHAHAHAHAAHAAAA. Yeah, right. This happens every. single. week.
So why did I spill my horrible housekeeping secrets today? Well, during the most recent pot scrubbing (evidently, you should never try to make barbeque portabella mushrooms in a pot. Whatever.), as I thought angrily about what an idiot I was that I didn’t take care of this mess as it started to occur instead of when it was utterly overwhelming, I had a flashback to the debt days. And a flash forward to retirement. Which will hopefully be easy street since I actually “do the dishes” for that sucker regularly.
This is because lots of things in life are like a groady sink full of dishes. There are folks who tackle their debt as soon as they see it happening, keep it under control and escape it nice and quick. The folks who don’t… are left with a sink of dirty dishes.
The lesson for today is don’t let ebola grow in your financial sink. Palmolive does not have a solution for that.