Guess who’s back. Back again. Will is back (echoes: back back) tell a friend.
Hello again fit and focused friends of Fitful Focus and welcome to another installment of “The Boyfriend Chronicles.” The last time I was here, I wrote about being a dog. Since I’m still very much a Pavlonian dog and have made zero progress in weaning myself off the sound of a camera shutter, I’d like to take this opportunity to write about something else: Hurricanes.
Before I get into that though, I’d like to start with a set of simple instructions. First, think about your significant other, boyfriend or favorite roommate. Got them in your head? Now go and get them and bring them to your computer. Actually scratch that, I need your help in convincing Nicole to pay me for these posts, so instead, have that person bring this post up on their computer so I can get some points for unique views (mwahaha). Last, and this is critical, walk away and go do something else while I speak with them about something very important. That’s right, you read correctly, don’t read another sentence. This post is not for the foodies, which I know most of you are – this is for the people who live with foodies and need to clean up after the hurricane has passed through the kitchen.
In order to really get into what I mean by that last sentence, I need to give a little background on myself and on the breakdown of responsibilities here in the apartment. First, I have 30 pairs of boxers. This may seem completely unrelated to everything I’ve mentioned thus far, but bear with me, I promise this is going somewhere. I have accumulated enough clothes over the years to completely eliminate a couple of months from the calendar when it comes to doing laundry. You’ve heard of the person who gets left back in school and is put on the 5 year plan? Well I’ve been on the 8 month laundry plan since the end of high school. Or at least I was, until moving in with Nicole.
Second, I work for the largest supplier of home decor and non-electronic kitchen products in the world. One of the benefits of working for this large company is that they occasionally have employee sample sales where we can go and buy stuff for dirt cheap. I’m talking full $150 cutlery sets for $5 cheap. Needless to say, I’ve..ummm… enjoyed this benefit. Our tiny little kitchen is packed full of some of the most useless and
phallic obscure cooking tools, like the double lime squeezer below.
Now as anybody who lives with their significant other can attest, when you first move in with that person, there’s a division of responsibilities. Since Nicole seemed displeased with my…um… eco-friendly laundry schedule she
demanded volunteered to take the laundry, leaving me the option of cleaning the apartment once a week by myself or splitting the apartment cleaning between us and taking sole responsibility for doing the dishes since we have no dishwasher. I chose dishes. And this is my biggest regret.
I’m not sure if I’m wired differently than most or if this is a food blogger thing, but, in my opinion, it’s not necessary to use EVERY SINGLE DISH in the kitchen to make dinner for the night. Apparently, that’s not how Nicole is wired though and when she’s in there, it’s literally like a category 5 hurricane is relentlessly tearing apart our kitchen. Sometimes I think I can hear our appliances crying for help as the hurricane bears down on them. Pots get pulled out from under the counter, cooked on and tossed into the sink like it’s a game of basketball. Tools and gadgets are pushed to their breaking points and launched into the sink to make friends with the pots. Food storage container lids are accidentally melted to the bottom of hot cookie sheets and then tossed into the sink for management (ahem, me) to figure out how to remove.
Basically, what I’m getting at is that by the time the hurricane subsides and Nicole walks out of the room, there is a mountain of tools, gadgets, pots, pans and cutlery so tall that cleaning the dishes becomes a game of Jenga. If you’re able to dig out the faucet and turn on the water, you have to be very careful not to remove the wrong piece from the pile or the whole thing will come crashing down and end in a trip to the psychiatric ward emergency room. On top of that, what took 2 hours to make takes much longer to clean. In fact, I’ve come up with the equation that predicts how long it will take to clean the dishes that hurricane Nicole dirties in the kitchen – and that is 2X+1, where X is the number of hours it took to cook the food. By that equation, if it takes her 1 hour to make 7 layer dip, it will take me 2×1 +1, or 3, hours to clean.
I’m telling you all of this so that if you move in with your significant other, or if there ever comes an opportunity to change up the responsibilities in the household BEWARE OF DISH DUTY. I have recurring dreams about all of our dishes magically coming to life and walking out of our apartment because of inhumane conditions and live in constant fear that the dish pile might take off a leg should if fall over onto me.
You have been warned,
P.S. Since I asked your significant others to go do something else while I impart my experiences upon you, please scroll to the bottom of the page so they cannot read what’s above, showing only the following paragraph.
In conclusion, hurricanes are really windy and are developed because of some stuff that goes on in the atmosphere. They’re usually from the Caribbean, so naturally, they like the warm water and warm air. They have an eye in the middle that has no clouds so they can see where they’re going. And that is how a hurricane works.
Do you share responsibilities with a roommate/significant other?
Ever feel like you got the short end of the stick?
Do you have a dishwasher? Will you give it to me?