Wishy Washy

Packing to head out the door, grabbing last minute items for the long car ride. Snow gear for the pass in case we need to chain up or get stopped for avalanche control. Extra oil and water for the car. Lists run through my head.

My husband’s chores this lovely morning were to get our propane tanks filled and wash the dog. She’s a much lovelier traveling companion in our car after she’s been freshly bathed. For that matter, so am I. He was able to complete half his list. Our dog does hate water.

One thing on my chore list that irritates me is the dishes. I love cooking, hate dishes. Well, I hate laundry also, but dishes more.

We use to have a great system. Or at least I thought so. I cooked, Steve cleaned up, put away the food, loaded the dishwasher, and hand washed pots and pans that didn’t fit. Unfortunately Steve had a terrible time making things fit in the dishwasher. The kids took turns putting the dishes away. According to my hubby, kids should have done it all.

After all, he was doing dishes since he was in diapers, says he.

Uh huh.

His family did wash all their dishes by hand when he was a kid. Recently they got a dishwasher and I'm sure they love it. My parents bought one when I was ten. There were a few times that we'd have to do dishes by hand because our machine would break and my dad took months to fix it. Ask my mom how long she had to go without a disposal when that croaked. Actually, you probably shouldn't.

As the years went by in our home however, the hand washed items became a sore subject. The exteriors were building up with scum and crud. I was having to rewash them before using. When I asked Steve about it he would say that he was in a hurry, he didn’t have enough time to wash the outsides just the insides, and we didn’t ‘cook’ with the outsides anyway, so who cared?

As for loading the dishwasher, his rigid-rule mind can’t comprehend the endless variables. It’s not unusual for me to rearrange a load several times in order to fit things in. Regardless of where a plastic storage container or lid is loaded, in Steve’s head says that no plastic items can go in the bottom rack. In our washer they can because I have the machine set so there is no heated dry cycle. It saves on electricity. Our tallest glasses don’t fit in the top rack at all so instead of putting them in the bottom rack Steve lays them down in the top rack so the insides don't get washed. I show him over and over. He still doesn’t ‘get it’. His head tells him that all glasses go in the top rack and plastics never go in the bottom rack. To him that is 'truth'.

Sooo, I do it myself. To me it feels like passive-aggressive behavior on his part, but logically I know that it’s the Aspergers. No matter how I try I can’t laugh about dishes.

Unloading is still done by the kids. Misery loves company. That does make me giggle.