a good example of what drives housewives to drink

This was my kitchen Thursday morning.

Why, yes, I think that IS every dish in my house, displayed in full squalor.


Oh, wait, it looks like there were a few hiding out in the cupboard. Hey, we could have gone for at least another meal without washing the dishes. Maybe longer, if we had eaten off of napkins and Tupperware storage lids.

Back story: Tuesday night I was cooking dinner as a love offering for a friend who is undergoing chemotherapy. I did not make it to the grocery store that morning, and so was trying to cook with what was already in the house. Which was not much. So I was being creative, and thought I could just pull the meal off, when things started to take a turn for the worst and my omelet with kalamata olives and roasted red peppers turned into scrambled eggs. I was hoping it would still be elegant enough to serve a friend, with a little mozzarella melted on top, and was chopping up cheese sticks for this purpose (the only cheese in the house), when D said something funny and I laughed. . . and just about sliced my thumb off.

So, with a deep flap of my thumb compressed and lots of mental swearing (which in my case amounts to "dang it,"or, if things are really bad, "crappity crap crap!"--this occasion warranting the later), I had to make the most pathetic phone call to my friend, explaining that I could not bring dinner after all. Luckily, it turns out they had not realized anyone was bringing dinner that night, so were set and did not need my lame offering. But the bleeding didn't stop for a while, and it was throbbing so badly--and there was the whole psychological factor of having a big flap of my thumb ready to flap open at the slightest bump--so basically there was no stinkin' way I was going to do dishes and clean up my cooking mess that night.

So we ate dinner. And breakfast the next day. And lunch. For almost two full days. And because I was not washing dishes, well, the dishes were not washed. My husband is high on the list of Excellent Husbands in several categories, such as Reliable Emptiers of Trash and Encouragers of Buying Expensive Shoes--but has never chosen to compete for high rankings in the kitchen arena. In fact, two of his lowest husband rankings overall occur in the kitchen, specifically in Washers of Dishes and Procurers of Nourishment from the Refrigerator for Himself and/or His Progeny.

So, Thursday around lunch, when I had taken off the bandage and then super-glued the edges of the thumb flap safely down, I was ready to face the wreckage. A lesser woman would have cried. I, not being that woman (for once) and being fortified by Earl Grey and chocolate, set about the task briskly. Two hours (also making dinner and feeding baby E in that time) and six basins of hot soapy water later, it was much, much better. But there was still much to be done. . .


to be continued!