His Bare Hand

I am working. I am working with Mom and with myself. I am distracted by this work. And sometimes by the big glowing box. The point is, I have been neglectful.

I hate dishes. I hate them, and I can’t help it. I have tried not to hate them. But they are an isolating and endless chore, and I hate them. So I get lazy. I get lazy and neglectful, and the dishes pile up. Even though we have a dishwasher. The dishes should be easy with a dishwasher, no? But every time I actually try to put the dishes into the appliance on a revolving basis, I end up having to rearrange them before the load gets done because my husband doesn’t know how to load the dishwasher properly (not his fault, I know, he’s only a man). But that just means more extra work on a chore that should be easy but is not, and so I continue to hate it.

James is a good husband. When I neglect the dishes out of laziness or spite, he will occasionally don the yellow gloves and plow through. Of course, that just makes me feel like the worst wife in the world because his hands are all dry and cracked, they hurt so much that he often leaves his wedding band sitting on the dresser because of all the chafing, and then there he is using those hands in a way that could potentially increase his pain. See how much I suck?

There is an entire sub-category on my list of stuff to improve in my life that is devoted to household chores, and keeping up with the dishes to maintain a clean-looking kitchen is up there near the top. But I just hate them so much that I end up pushing it down and down. After picking up the living room, organizing the office, rearranging closets to find some storage for the boxes and junk that still occupy the future nursery. I don’t look at the sink. I ignore the spreading mounds from the sink to the corner of the counter until they start to make their presence undeniable what with the burning of my nose hairs every time I need something from the fridge. I exaggerate, of course. Well, a little. Sometimes the dishes do start to stink. And that’s when I hate them even more.

I have to wonder if there is some way I can shift my attitude about this chore. Perhaps there is something good that I can associate with doing the dishes. Like a reward system. Or a favorite song I can play while I do them. I really should find something. I don’t have a lot of chores around the house. The big ones are dishes and laundry. And James usually handles the laundry, so it’s only fair that I get dish duty. Other than that, picking up around the house, vacuuming, dusting, those are things that I really don’t mind doing when I have the time. And I can usually find the time to do those things. Which is funny because I never seem to have any time to devote to the dishes.


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