I really don't blame him. Who wants their dishes cleaned by a still contagious person? He has always been good to offer to help, but that is no different than my six year old daughter offering her services. He did say that he was going to hang with the kids and clean the dishes after they went to bed. I cringed, but left and headed upstairs after I finished, since I had stuff to do, and didn't need to keep breathing all over the dinner table. Well, here I am, back upstairs, full cup, and still, something nagging me telling me that I didn't do what I wanted to do downstairs. And of course, walking down there and seeing my "Million Dollar Spaghetti" crusted on bowls had really gotten to the OCD I shove deep inside this sexy piece of work I call, "My Body." (Million Dollar Spaghetti is a recipe I found on, where else, Pinterest, and at first glance, I knew I would love it. It is like a spaghetti pie, which I use the vegetable spaghetti, and you add lots of other stuff, one item being cottage cheese. We got a lasagna from Geoff's mother after having one of the migits, and it was the best lasagna I had ever had. Again, she had used cottage cheese. Woof. It makes you wanna' slap yo' granny, good.)
So I head back upstairs, Geoff begins working on the dishes, and I decide to go brush my teeth. (This turns into another edition of "If you give a mouse a cookie.") I brush my teeth, and then spray my sink with the bathroom cleaner, since I can only imagine all my germs in the sink and Geoff accidentally dropping his toothbrush in the sink, and the vicious cycle will never end. (My brain never stops. I really do need mental help. Like... say, YEARS AGO.) I see that my bathroom cleaner, the spray bottle I fill with a combination of original blue Dawn dish detergent, white vinegar, and water, is nearly empty. Could that have been what I was going to do downstairs? Nah.. that wasn't it.
So, I head downstairs. And here's where the fun begins. (Fun to me=winning a stubborn standoff. A lot of fun to me is winning a stubborn standoff in a short amount of time.) This turned out to be a lot of fun. I fill up my bottle with the ingredients, and as I am doing so, I see that Geoff is making a freakin' mess of the dishes job he decided to do tonight. First, he was dripping water on the floor. That just makes more work for me. When there is water on the floor, when you walk on it, it attracts more dirt, and more mopping. Mopping is not my favorite chore. I mention this to him. He begins keeping his hands over the sink more. Then, I mention that you really can't leave dishes like these because they become much harder to clean if left to sit. At which point, he proceeds to pick up the steel wool that is left in the sink----- for.the.dog.bowl. I saw him start to clean a crusty bowl, and simultaneously, my gag reflex found itself. (I thought for sure the nurse that swabbed my throat had broken it yesterday. She was an aggressive beast. I liked her. She reminded me of me when I did her job. Except, I had a sense of humor, wasn't black, and tried to make the patients feel more comfortable in a doctor office. Well, besides knowing how to swab a throat, we were nothing alike. Oh well. I tried.)
So, I quickly, and not so gently, told him that he was using the dog bowl scrubber. I suppose grabbing the dishes and beginning to do them myself was not very appreciative, however, I have been out of my element for two days, and that is about 47 hours too long for me to not be moving at full speed. So, I did one bowl, and went to grab for another, and Geoff decided to dig his heels in. This happens so infrequently, and never at an appropriate time, that it makes me laugh. I mean, we all know that I not only wear the pants, but I do everything including grow the freakin' cotton to make them to sew them! So, you think three dishes is something to fight over? Nah. But we did. I laughed, and his vein bulged. And the more it bulged in anger, the more I laughed. About three minutes into the argument, and it really was an argument, he gave in. But right before he gave in, he said he would stand there until four in the morning if he had to. It was only 10:PM and by 10:10 PM, the dishes were done- without the help of the dog bowl steel wool.
So, I finished, feeling pretty good about refilling the cleaner and finishing the dishes, so I head upstairs. I still have this feeling that I have forgotten something, but at this point, I concede "old age," and decide that I have done all that needs to be done, and head to bed to hop online. And that's when it happens. I open my laptop, and there it is. The screen I was looking at when I first headed downstairs. Pinterest.
I bought celery today, on a migit request in the produce department. I generally don't veer from my list, but how can you turn down a child and a vegetable of choice? Well, you can if most of it ends up in the garbage most times you buy it, but this time, I thought I would seek out a way to keep it crisp for a longer period of time. And look what I found! And look what I forgot by the time I walked down one flight of stairs in my house. Duh.
One great hint. One meaningless argument. One clean house and dishes. And now, celery that might stay fresh for weeks if one girl migit doesn't finish it soon.
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