My name is Amber and I hate doing dishes. Hate it, with the fire of 10,000 suns. I have ever since I was a kid. Cleaning is not my idea of a good time, in general, but I can stomach tidying toys or vacuuming or scrubbing toilets. Doing the dishes, on the other hand, leaves me feeling sullen and angry.
I think my dish hatred stems from my experience at Brownie camp as a 7-year-old. After each meal we had to wash our own dishes. They had sinks set up – one for washing, one for rinsing, one for sterilizing. There were 20 little girls lined up to wash and we weren’t all as diligent about scraping our plates as we should have been. By the time you got to the end of the line the water was awful. Dunking my plate in that water rendered it dirtier rather than cleaner. Those soap commercials that show a sparkling glass emerging from a sink that has already washed a dozen greasy pans? They lie.
Following my Brownie camp adventures I learned to fear what lies beneath the dishwater. As a single woman I only washed my dishes when I absolutely had to, and frequently found myself cleaning a single bowl so that I could eat soup. I alienated more than one roommate with my less-than-stellar kitchen cleaning. When Jon and I got married and went searching for our first shared apartment, a dishwasher was at the top of our list of requirements. I wasn’t going to lose my husband over my hatred of washing by hand.
This is a mostly staged photo of me happily rinsing a pot.
While we do have a dishwasher these days, the sad truth is it doesn’t save you from having to clean your kitchen. There’s the loading and unloading, of course. There are also items that need to be washed by hand, surfaces that have to be wiped, and kids’ spills to contend with. Thankfully, Jon usually steps up to the plate. Approximately 5 nights out of 7 he tackles the kitchen and I thank my lucky stars for him. He’s a prince among men.
Sadly for me, my prince is currently on day 15 of 18 of Olympic work. The days he’s working are long and he doesn’t get home most nights until after 10pm. I have had to do far more kitchen cleaning than I normally would. It turns out that ignoring it doesn’t make it go away, and my Samantha Stevens nose-wiggle is on the fritz. There’s nothing for it but to hold my nose and dive in. Practice is not making perfect for me, and I hate the dishes as much as ever. Luckily, though, my kids seem to like them, so maybe in a few years I can pass them off.
So, tell me – what’s the household chore you hate the most? Or are you a happy soul who can find joy in even the most mundane of tasks? Please share!