So turns out doing the dishes ain't so bad after all.

So this evening, as every evening in the history of man and woman, I made dinner. Dun dun dunnn... Along with dinner comes dirty dishes, and although I don't mind doing dishes per say, on this particular night I got to thinking. Hmmm I thought up dinner, I prepared dinner (and I did ask for help but was promptly declined) I even made dinner "appear" on the table. So cleverly with grin attached I simply threw out that perhaps "HE" should do the dishes. In which aforementioned "HE" thought I was joking. Ha, no. Which was followed by mild complaints from the one who dished up thirds to my single portion. "Doing dishes makes my back hurt" WAIT! What? Shoot, why hadn't I thought of that one growing up?? "Sorry Dad, you know I want to but this fifth grade homework is a real killer and my back just can't take standing at the sink." Pshh I know why I hadn't thought of (at least) saying that one out loud. Uhm.. Because I wanted to be ALIVE. But apparently I don't evoke that same fear into my partner. So I shot back some off handed remarks of the things that I really just can't do because they hurt my back too now that I think of it. *Remarks that are just totally inappropriate outside of our two earshot's.

He not thinking that I was too funny started his whole "You don't understand how difficult my job is and standing for long periods of time kill my back..."

On a side note. He works very hard and his job is LABOR intensive. Bottom line I could never do it, like EVER. I don't want to, I don't have to and Im NEVER gonna. But lets face it when have I ever not had something to say?

So back to our discussion on dishes, which he is in fact doing during this moment of "communication". Directly behind me is our kitchen table. Seated at our kitchen table is the seven year old who on average takes about TWO HOURS to finish dinner, breakfast in five minutes but dinner is almost ALWAYS two hours. So like I was saying, behind me is the seven year old who at this moment is getting up from the table. And then I hear it. That cough, the cough EVERY mother knows. The cough the includes food and lots of it. So now lets just say his hands are full. I already know what happened before I even have to turn around. I transplant the child to our lovely simple human (garbage can) and turn to "HE" aka Nick and let him know that I can do the dishes!!! He says "No, that's all right. I got this"

=( So from my view, which is all fours on the carpet scrub brush in hand. Dishes. Eh, dishes ain't so bad.