In my rush to pack Peanut's breakfast one morning, I opened the clean dishwasher, grabbed one of her bowls, and began pouring her cereal. One thing led to another, a chain of events that I couldn't possibly duplicate if I tried. As a result, an entire bowl of Rice Krispies ended up IN the clean dishwahser.
Adding to my angst and aggravation, I heard the screeching brakes of the bus I needed to catch from just a few blocks away. I had no time to clean the Rice Krispies chaos I had created in my dishwasher. I had to think and act fast. Knowing My Director would have no reason to go in the dishwasher since I had packed everything Peanut needed. Knowing she doesn't have any reason to go into the dishwasher unless I ask her to since the kitchen is my domain, I shut the door and left the mess in there for me to clean when I got home. What she doesn't know won't hurt her, or me. Right?
I assumed I was in the clear until I received an email:
BODY: "Why are there Rice Krispies everywhere? I opened the dishwasher and they are all over."Caught.To this day I have no idea what she was doing in the dishwasher, She really has no business in there.
As I laughed at her inquisitive, confused email, I thought, why should I be so hard on myself? Like I often tell my team at work, I would much rather see mistakes of aggressiveness, than mistakes of laziness. I was trying to slam Peanut's breakfast together in very little time. I succeeded too, my cascade of Rice Krispies aside. It is in that spirit I present to you defense Exhibit A, your honor:
This smelling foulness that you don't even want to imagine (Yes, I used that Swashank reference AGAIN) was at one point a yummy dip My Director made for a football Sunday. The picture was taken on the following Thursday. As you can see, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, said dip is not covered. As you can imagine, my refrigerator smelled like we were keeping a dead body in there. Sure, I could have covered it myself at some point. But then if I do the work for her, she's never going to learn, is she?
Something happens to My Director when she enters the kitchen. All reason and sound decision-making seems to abandon her. This is why she is not allowed in there unless she is unstacking the dishwasher, by request. For unstacking the dishwasher is my household chore equivalent of fingernails on the chalkboard. Hate it.
Such a coincidence that we're back at the dishwasher, where our little story began. Because once I called My Director out on her a uncovered-dip-in-the-fridge fiasco, what did she do? This:
"Honey, why did you just put this rotting carcass of a bowl in the sink?"
"It needs to soak."
"You've just moved the cesspool from the fridge to the sink."If you're amazed by the role reversal in our house, then read on in wonderment: I promptly rinsed the bowl and put it in the dishwasher for My Director to eventually empty. The circle of life. I then cleaned the sink so it wouldn't stink. Do conversations like this sound familiar? Do they happen in your house too?
Depending on the day, there is still a faint rotting-carcass smell in our beloved swagger wagon. But that time it was my fault, as I wrote here.