Let me start by saying that I don't particularly enjoy loading the dishwasher. Maybe I would like it more if my work was not scrutinized and re-wickered after completion. Yes, it's true. I may put glasses in where Dave would like the bowls to go. Technically, I may put in one plate one way and the next plate in the opposite direction. That just shows my easygoing nature, right? Au contraire say my husband.....and my sister......and my dear friend Michelle......and my husband's siblings.
You see, a few months ago, I wrote a song.....about the silverware.....in the dishwasher. You better come along with me, 'cuz it's not likely to get any more sane. Mayor of Crazy town? Maybe.
I'd be happy to hum the tune for you but the lyrics represent the five silverware "receptacles" in the dishwasher:
"Little spoon, Big spoon,
Little fork, Big fork,
Knives and other things."
I could apologize, but it is what it is----my organizational tool that people either find bat-poop crazy or quite logical. The reasoning, of course, (lest you question for an instant the wisdom in the practice) is that if you take 2 seconds to organize them into their little homes before the wash cycle, it takes seconds to drop them into their proper silverware tray receptacle after their bath.
Dave has just learned to shake his head and mutter something under his breath that sounds like, "Seriously, you'll put a bowl in there upside down knowing it will never get washed but you have to sing to me to organize the forks?"
Today, while teaching a workshop, I took a break to listen to a voice mail message from my sister. I so wish I could figure a way for you to hear her voicemail because the hearing it would be so much more powerful.
Her four-year old grand-daughter began the message singing (in pitch-perfect tone, by the way. Dawg! I am feelin' it), "Little spoon, big spoon, Little fork, big fork, Knives and other things" . Spot-on!! The song was followed by my sister saying, "And it moves to another generation."
My eyes teared up just a bit---not positive whether it was from being so touched or whether I was a bit sad that OCD apparently gets passed to grand-nieces. But no matter.....all is organized and well.
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