Dishes

The fineprint to this blog is, A) my room mates are AWESOME! and B) I have learned my lesson

I don't cook. I never eat anything that can't be cooked (AKA microwaved) and eaten in one dish. More often than that, I just hit the local drive through. I have terrible eating habits and it's beyond me how I am still alive. But that is another issue for another blog.

Because of my eating habits, I really never go into our kitchen. Really. Ask my room mates. They are used to this. If the garbage needs taking out, they just tell me. If they need paper towels or stuff, they tell me.

But with the new year, I thought I'd try something new, like eating regularly, and eating stuff other than junk. But I still only make easy stuff, like pasta. It requires only a couple of dishes to prepare if you do it right.

That's when I discovered the dirty dishes in my kitchen . . . meaning, I don't think anyone does them on a regular basis.

This is something I had never really noticed before. Because I only ever used one dish, I always washed and dried it by hand rather than let it sit. I figure this way, I was doing my share of the chores. This last week has been different. About four of the 50 dishes in the sink were mine. (Okay, I may be exaggerating a little, but only about my room mates' portion. I really only had four dishes in the sink. I hate dishes and will do anything, barring eating with my hands, to keep the dish count down).

Anyway, I think my room mates are secretly glad to have me in the kitchen, doing a fourth of the chores. Because the day after I started using the kitchen, and the dishes started to stack up, and I started to wonder how this particular chore was assigned . . .

They all left town.

So, after eating a meal of fettuccine, I cleaned up after fried eggs, broiled chicken, something else with pasta, something with cheese, and several bowls of cereal.

I think I have just been sent a message.

I'm glad I don't live with members of the Mafia.