All Washed Up

I hate doing dishes.

This is not the type of hate that makes me plot evil revenge during every waking moment.

It is a hate born out of the drudgery of doing SO MANY DISHES ALL THE TIME!! (I know, Beth. I should just talk to the hand, right?)

Okay, so while I am not feeding quite as many as Beth's crew, I am still running a dishwasher one to three times a day, plus doing whatever assorted hand dishes might have accrued.

Serena told me that her mom says "dishwashers aren't a luxury, they are a necessity." I agree. Unless, of course, you live in a place where domestic help is easily affordable, right Rohini? (Although I'm sure the maids wouldn't mind a dishwasher, either!)

So, because I despise the task, I kind of have to trick myself into doing them. This is my method for doing dishes about half the time (the half that isn't on purpose):

I go into the kitchen to get something, say a glass for a drink of water. Or a pot to start the morning oats soaking before bed. Shoot! says I. Must be in the dishwasher.

So I open the dishwasher, wave the steam out of my eyes, and retrieve the item in question. Of course, once I remove the pot from the bottom rack, there are only a few plates and a couple of other big things left in there, so I think I'll just put a few other things away while I'm here.

Pretty soon I'm working on the glasses and bowls from the top shelf. Before I know it, the dishwasher is empty, except for the cutlery.

The cutlery is always last. I am not sure why I always leave it, except that I'm not really emptying the dishwasher. I'm just putting a few things away while I'm in there for my pot/glass/spoon. But there it is: an empty dishwasher, and a full cutlery tray. Well, by then I concede defeat and just empty the dang thing.

After that, it is short work to refill it with the load that is waiting patiently on the counter, and I am rewarded with a clean kitchen.

All because I am too lazy to do the dishes.