I am very well aware that there is nothing "normal" about the way we have been living in the past 5 weeks. Shit. Ok, I admit there has been nothing "normal" about me for about 42 years, but for the sake of argument, let's just focus on the last 5 months, shall we? Having the kitchen out-of-order has created a giant clusterfuck in a wide variety of ways...no running water, no access to stove or oven, eating wherever you can find a chair and a clear surface... I've had to close my eyes and breathe deeply sooooo many times as things that are so very wrong became so very necessary. Straining food in a bathroom sink, anyone?
So given how "off routine" things have been, I've been willing to be quite a bit flexible in how we've done things around here. The normal job chart as been tabled temporarily, as doing many of the kitchen chores over a carpeted surface means Mom is a little bit less willing to stand back and let the minions learn the hard way how to take out the trash without dumping it all over the floor, or how to clear the table without dropping 86% of the dirty silverware on the floor on the way to the sink (especially since the sink in question is now at the complete other end of the house and in the basement!). So its not like I am flying off the handle at the first sign of discombobulation. We've been living in a state of discombobulation for 5 weeks now, and I'm kinda thinking we should all be used to it by now. It's kinda our "new normal". As such, I don't think its asking too much for the minions around here to get their shit together and get with the friggin' program already!
I know for a fact that tonight was NOT the first night anyone shorter than 5 feet tall in this family was asked to help out with washing dishes. I'm pretty sure the basics have been covered plenty of times. You know, hot water, soap, a cleansing cloth of some sort...the basics. Therefore, merely changing the location of the dishwashing experience, from the kitchen sink to the basement sink, doesn't really change the actual PROCESS of the dish washing itself. Since there is still access to the required hot water, soap, and cleansing cloth in the new location, I just don't believe that the new location itself is enough to create such a degree of confusion as to make the act of dish washing too difficult to be completed. And not to break my arm patting myself on the back or anything, but its not like I am asking for the complete sterilization process that I was taught to follow when I worked at a preschool - soapy water so hot you couldn't retrieve the silverware from the bottom of the sink without risking the loss of an arm, followed by the scalding hot rinse and the burning bleach water that seared off the top layer of skin from both hands. No. I'm perfectly happy with hot water, soap, and a cleansing cloth. Not too much to ask, I'm thinking.
Therefore, I've come to the conclusion that from now on, the next person who is asked to do the dishes and who then assures me, without a doubt, that they are absolutely 100% done with the dishes and that they have, in fact, been washed thoroughly, that person will be eating their next meal off of those exact same dishes. If those dishes are "clean" enough for you to step away from the sink and call it "done", then those dishes are "clean" enough for YOU to eat off of. Cuz there ain't no fucking way I am eating off any of them! Cuz that shit ain't fucking clean! And I'm gonna give you a little cheat sheet to use when trying to determine if dishes are or are not, in fact, clean yet.
If the "clean" knife handle has a dried glob of peanut butter on it that can't even be chiseled off with another knife, SHIT AIN'T CLEAN!
If the "clean" frying pan has a layer of grease on it that turns a paper towel brown when said paper towel is wiped over the surface of said pan, SHIT AIN'T CLEAN!
If the "clean" spoon that was once a solid color now has a polka dot pattern of dried, red spaghetti sauce spots on it, SHIT AIN'T CLEAN!
If the "clean" cereal bowl has a white ring dried in the bottom in the exact shape and pattern of the milk left over from the cereal you had for breakfast, SHIT AIN'T CLEAN!
If the "clean" colander has a 50% blockage of all its drainage holes from tiny bits of pasta that have dried into place, SHIT AIN'T CLEAN!
If the "clean" fork no longer has separate tines, but instead has dried shit in between them, thus creating a smooth eating surface, SHIT AIN'T CLEAN!
If the "clean" cups still retain the ability to have the last liquid consumed from them easily and readily identified, SHIT AIN'T CLEAN!
If the "clean" spatula still has enough dried egg on it to provide a child in a 3rd world nation a healthy breakfast, SHIT AIN'T CLEAN!
If the "clean" silverware bin, that is supposed to be clear, is now opaque (that means NOT see through anymore!) as a result of all the left over food crap dried on it, SHIT AIN'T CLEAN!
Do I need to keep going? I kinda feel like I've made my point but if not, I'd be happy to continue making my way through the "clean" dishes to point out additional examples. And the irony of it all is that merely using the 3 basic tools of appropriate dish washing mentioned before, the hot water, soap, and cleansing cloth, would easily have prevented these items from merely being "clean" and helped them actually to be fucking CLEAN!! So if you feel like being lazy and doing a half-assed job of washing dishes, understand that it will be you, and NOT me, who will be getting Ecoli, or Botulism, or Salmonella, or Listeria, or the Plague, or whatever disgusting diarrhea-and-vomit-inducing illness comes with eating off of filthy dishes. Because I will be eating off of dishes that I wash myself. You will not be going anywhere near MY dishes. Back those grubby little paws the hell away. NOW!
And as an added bonus, I'm willing to offer a few more pointers that can make our existence here more mutually beneficial (and just overall more positive)...It might, just might, not be a good time to make me ask you FOUR times to bring me your mother effing dirty clothes off your bed room floor. Cuz I don't know if you can tell, but the shrill harpy-like voice, bugged-out eyes, and 360 degree head-spin are all signs that I've about had it, and your help in meeting some basic minimums around here would be greatly the fuck appreciated. And the bonus to the bonus tip? When I am in the basement up to my armpits with your stankified clothing, with prune hands from washing all of your "clean" dishes, you might - just MIGHT - NOT want to try and tell me that the dog whining at the back door shouldn't fall on you because you aren't currently "in that room". Cuz guess what? Neither the hell am I! And it would be a really, really, REALLY bad idea to try and tell me that I should come upstairs and do that so that you can avoid having to get up from that comfortable chair. Like, really, really bad.
But its really only a bad idea if you think you might want to keep living in this house. Or if you think you might want to maintain the use of your arms as something other than clubs. Or if you think you like being able walk without a permanent limp. Or if you kinda like the look of going out in public without my foot permanently embedded up your ass. But really, its up to you. Your call.
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