Of Who Done It? Tale of the Kitchen Felon.

 

Nicole and a Stuffed Doggy.

Here’s a picture of one of my besties staring down the camera with a stuffed dog in her dress. Her quizzical, but stern face, pretty sums up the emotions of the words below.

Every day, when I walk into the kitchen, I have the same thought, “Where did all these dishes come from?” I’ll do the dishes at night, and by 6:00pm the next day we’re out of glasses, there are piles of dirty plates (not rinsed off, mind you), pans on the stove top, and bowls in the living room. It’s baffling.

So I’ll sit there and ponder how many of these are mine. Here lies a typical day:

Breakfast: none – who has time for breakfast?

Lunch: frying pan, spatula, plate, knife, glass

Dinner: pan, stirring spoon, bowl, fork, glass

Total: utensils = 2, cooking stuff = 4, plates = 1, bowl = 1, glasses = 2

If all three of us created the exact same number of dishes, then that would account for 30 dirty things next to the sink. But it would mostly consist of small stuff, which could easily fit into one load of dishes crammed onto our drying rack – sadly, we don’t have a dish washer. It doesn’t explain how literally all of our forks and glasses disappear. Or where the stack of 10 plates comes from. Or why there’s always gross stuff stuck to the inside of 5 pots/pans – seriously roomies, rinse your dishes, don’t make me drawn a penis on your face with a sharpie when you’re asleep. And it certainly doesn’t explain why I end up doing an average of three loads of dishes regularly.

But of course, no one is guilty. When we discuss the dishes, everyone claims to have only used 3 dishes – 7 tops. Maybe we have a magical dirty dish fairy. Or maybe the hermit downstairs, comes up to use our kitchen when we’re not home. Or maybe one of us, if not all of us, are sneaky liars.

It’s like when I was little and the towel bar broke in the bathroom. My dad sat everyone down to see who broke the towel bar. No one fessed up, everyone had the same face of, “Jeepers! I don’t know.” To this day the towel bar mystery has never been solved, but I’d place money on my brother Eric. I just have this feeling that he’s the guilty one.

I have a theory that I’ll never have a clear answer as to who the dishes monster is,  but I have a hunch  …. not that they’ll ever fess up.

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