Just rambling thoughts about anything that happens to be on my mind and that usually isn't much!
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Sunday, April 30, 2006

Filling the Dishwasher

“Will you fill the dishwasher?” the Warden asks after supper.

“Sure” I answer. I mean, what other answer could there be? It is kind of like asking, “are politicians going to raise taxes?” Sure. “Does the sun come up in the east?” Sure. Same type of question!

Editor’s note: the Warden never watched “Leave it to Beaver” as a kid growing up or she would have understood a husband’s role. Do you remember that show? I mean Mr. Cleaver always read the paper while Mrs. Cleaver fixed supper and did the dishes. He never had to do the dishes!

But alas, times have changed.

However, I don’t mind filling the dishwasher except for the “peripherals” that go along with filling it. It goes something like this.

The Warden directs “Don’t forget to rinse them good.”

“Dear, I always rinse them.” I answer in my defense.

“And be sure to do the forks real good or they won’t be clean.” She further directs.

“Yes dear.” I answer and usually use some extravagant show of rinsing silverware at this point with some added muttering that I cannot print in public.

The Warden is usually busying herself around the kitchen putting leftovers into those plastic containers known as Tupperware. I swear that Tupperware is a man’s nightmare and should be banned for use in the United States as a hazard to mental health. However she keeps an eye on the happenings at the dishwasher.

The Warden further directs “You need to move those glasses on the top shelf to the side.”

“Why?” I ask rhetorically, not really wanting an explanation.

“Just trust me.” She continues, “they will be cleaner that way.”

“Well if that’s the case …” I start to counter but loose interest in continuing the argument. I begin rearranging the top shelf as directed.

The Warden puts the last Tupperized leftover into the refrigerator as I push the top shelf in on the dishwasher. She immediately turns and pulls the top shelf back out, rearranges the cups, bowls, saucers and glasses. She pushes it in, pulls out the bottom shelf and rearranges the dishes found there.

I stand watching the Warden perform this task in bewilderment. The task now finished to her satisfaction; she closes the door on the dishwasher and walks toward the living room door.

“How about if I just start rinsing the dishes and let you load the dishwasher?” I ask as she walks through the door.

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