Yesterday I came home to find Dick emptying the dishwasher. He’d been pushed that far by an exchange we’d had over Twitter. (Twitter = Communication = Great for Marriage).
Dick: My left wrist feels like someone ran over it with a car, but I have no recollection of any injury to it.
Jane: @Dick Hope it wasn’t all the dishes you did last night. WAIT. You didn’t do any dishes last night (ever). Probably carpal tunnel 
.
(Sidenote: In going back to get this word-for-word, I noticed the tweet Dick had written two hours before the wrist thing. “Just thinking that my blogging life with Jane is the natural extension of a marriage of two English majors. Love reading her blog everyday.” Boy, I’m starting to look really bad here, huh? In my defense, all I can say is that Dick had played basketball the night before, and that he truly hadn’t washed a single dish since we moved into this house one month ago.)
Now, I recognize the wisdom in the advice given to women that they shouldn’t criticize the way hubs diapers the baby or barbeques the chicken or washes the dishes. I know just enough behavior modification to realize that criticizing the way someone does something they don’t enjoy anyway is not a good way to encourage them to keep doing it.
But. Dick does dishes the wrong way.
He does.
Plus he hasn’t cooked (yet) in this new house, so I was prepared to be exasperated when he started hunting through cupboards looking for the mixing bowl’s home. And I blushed deep red half-way through saying NOT THAT ONE:
Not that beautifully empty, extra-deep cupboard that I . . . completely forgot about when setting up my kitchen four weeks ago.
If I weren’t feeling so sheepish, I’d be overjoyed at the thought of an EMPTY CUPBOARD. That’s like a $20 bill in your coat pocket, waiting for weather cold enough for you to discover it.
What will I put in that cupboard? The possibilities are staggering, and endless. I’ll probably keep it empty as long as I can, opening the door to admire its rich blankness whenever I feel cluttered and overwhelmed. It’ll be my secret place. A reminder that now we have more: more space, more possibility, more home than we need.
(and thanks for doing the dishes, Dick. You’re the best. (husband and father, not dishwasher).
Tags: homemaking, housekeeping, husbands, marriage
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Man. I would give anything to have forgotten such a great cupboard and extra storage in the kitchen.
Loralees last blog post..The Good, the Bad, and the “Meh”.
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I have dreams about cupboards like that!
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I’d crawl in it and hide right now. I’m pretty small so I’d be quite comfortable. Maybe you can make it “The Naughty Cupboard”.
Sheas last blog post..I can do whatever I want
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lol i know what you mean! i have one cabinet jammed full of plastic containers and another that’s nearly empty. i just can’t stand the thought of losing that space.
Memarie Lanes last blog post..Donkephant
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When we had our kitchen remodeled, it took me a good year to use up all the cupboards… it was as if I couldn’t get used to the idea of expansion. It really is like finding a $20 in your pocket.
Kathys last blog post..THANKFUL
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Oh the joy and temptation of a newly discovered empty cupboard! What a wonderful discovery.
It is like discovering a $20 note in your pocket.
And I know what you mean about when the blokes just do the dishes/laundry/folding/breathing in the wrong way. JR always hanges the clothes on the line the wrong way. Two pegs for items I’d only use one peg. If I was that excessive, I’d run out of pegs before the second load was on the line! I’ve managed to stop attempting to correct his aberrant peg use. BUT if he insists on putting one load in a quarter of the clothesline (the rotary kind, funnily enough with four quarters), I will go nuts. Surely a bloke can understand the basic physics of drying clothes??
(I think it’s physics. Might be some other science he learnt at school and I didn’t.)
Kirstys last blog post..You doing, Mummy?
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I feel your pain. I NEVER know where the dishes are going to be becuase it is my husband job to wash the dishes. He puts them up in a different place everytime I swear. And my Mom and Grandmother taught me to wash dishes at an early age. You wash the glasses/silverware, then the plates/bowls and stuff that does not have a lot of gunk on it, then you wash the nasty stuff last. My husband throws everything in one side of the sink and “prewashes” as he calls it (meaning he sprays water all over them). Then he transfers them all to the other side of the sink and washes them all together. I have to stay out of the kitchen while he does it. I can’t stand to watch. Oh well at least he helps me out.
Natalies last blog post..KY must like to pick on the newcomers
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