Mon petit ami went to a wedding in Quebec last weekend so I was chilling hard by myself. And, it was AWESOME. I did a little work, made some good food, had brunch with friends, and cleaned up around the apartment. Well, I cleaned everything except the dishes. I hate doing dishes. And, technically it’s not my job. It’s DISHMAN’s.
Who is DISHMAN, you may ask? Well, I don’t know his exact origin, but he’s my superhero. I believe that he showed up after a particularly ambitious dinner party that I hosted, which used most, if not all, of the dishes, utensils, and cookware that I owned at the time. As a good host, I certainly couldn’t ask my guests to do it, but I was feeling an increasing sense of dread as the dishes began to pile up next to the sink. I was ready to admit defeat and just throw everything in the trash when DISHMAN appeared. It may not be the stuff Hollywood blockbusters are made of, but it was nothing short of a miracle at the time.
If it’s not obvious, DISHMAN is mi hombre. Thinking back on it, that night might have been the first time that I thought I might love him. Seriously. I really hate doing the dishes. I feel like I’m doing a good job when I manage to get the dishes near the sink and the worst part is that I have a dishwasher.
Anyway, I consider myself to be a pretty neat person – everything has a place – but I know I’m not that clean. As I have been living by myself for the last two years, I have developed some particularly bad habits. DISHMAN is a very gracious guest when he’s visiting for a weekend, but I know that I’m going to have to pick up more of the slack when we start living together.
I can no longer just roll in, leave glasses and used plates wherever I put them down (I know, it’s terrible), and head back home. I grew up sharing a bathroom with my sister and I have seen the astronomical rate at which something that was just cleaned can descend back into filth when multiple people are contributing to the mess. It’s not pretty.
I guess the only fair thing is to discover my chore-related alter ego. Perhaps I can be the LAUNDRY LADY to his DISHMAN? No, that reminds me too much of Charlie’s poor mother.
Maybe I’ll be the DUST BUNNY? Or the WINDEX WIDOW? On second thought, I think I’ll just hire someone – they’ll get a decent wage and I’ll have a clean house. Everyone’s happy.
Thanks Pinch A Pig Toe for the cute cartoon!
Valarie is from Georgia. No, she doesn't have an accent. No one in metro-Atlanta really does. You can read her thoughts, using non-regional diction, at thinkingaboutdoing.tumblr.com.
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