I've done everything I can think of. I've begged and I've pleaded, cried and cajoled, whimpered and whined, but to no avail.
The dishes won't do themselves.
I had hoped that the CDR might do some of these dishes before he left last Thursday, since many of them were the remains of a weekend visit by his family. But when he finally came to bed on his last night at home, it was nearly midnight and I hadn't the heart to say, "Honey, don't you have some dishes to clean?"
Instead, the dishes have lived a disgustingly dirty and dangerously stacked existence on my kitchen counters, slowly crowding out all productivity until last night's meal was a one-pan Hamburger Helper because, quite frankly, it was the only clean pan I had left.
In my ideal life, my kitchen would be clean every night before I went to bed. I would load the dishwasher; clean the pots, pans, and delicates; then wipe the counters and stove top to a sparkling sheen. In the morning, I would awaken to the luscious smell of Starbucks Colombian Roast, freshly brewed and just waiting for me to pour a cup and enjoy.
In my real life, I rolled out of bed this morning to change the baby's diaper, monitor the potty-training toddler, help the toddler mix pancake batter, and get both kids ready to eat breakfast. Then I took advantage of their brief occupation to shove aside the Leaning Tower of Potsa and access my coffeemaker.
Dang it all! The remnants of yesterday's brew were still floating in the bottom inch of my coffee pot, so I poured out the old stuff and gave the pot a quick hot rinse. And you know, when there's still some coffee floating in the pot, there's probably still some used grounds in the filter basket. So I threw them into my heaping-mound-o-food-waste (our garbage service has a compost program - it feels good to be earth-friendly) and moved forward with increasing urgency, as Kel's pancake bites were almost gone.
Double dang it all! I had no coffee grounds to brew. So I whipped out a new blender cup and poured in some whole beans, then gave it a quick zap in my Magic Bullet. (Thank you, God, for my Magic Bullet.)
Five minutes later, I had my cup of coffee. And even more dirty dishes.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Dear reader, I did the dishes.
Last night, I developed a theory that if I went to bed when the kids went to bed, I might actually be productive during today's naptime. And I was right!
Instead of sinking into my couch and flipping open People magazine, I stayed in the kitchen for almost two hours, loading and scouring and scrubbing and wiping until every last dish and countertop was clean.
It feels good, that clean kitchen. So good that I took a picture for you to enjoy.
Dang it all! I forgot to clean the coffeemaker!