Washing up: my nemesis.
After reading Anxious Annie’s post (I know her name isn’t Annie, but, y’know, alliteration…) about dishwashers, it made me pine after my own mechanical servant to wash my crockery.
If someone asked me “what, in all the world, do you hate doing the most?”, my answer would be, without a seconds hesitation “Washing up”. I loathe doing the washing up and, as a result, there’s a stack of washing up by my sink waiting to be done right this second. The washing up only ever gets done for one of the following reasons:
- I’ve run out of plates/dishes/cups/glasses/etc and I am fed up of take away food
- I’m expecting company and don’t want to appear a slob
- My mum comes round to visit and feels duty bound to scrub the kitchen to a rediculous level in case I’m required to perform surgery in a trice
Unfortunately I have neither the room nor the funds to get a dishwasher of my very own. I’m going to have to find myself a woman who prides herself on her ability to clean and enjoys it… by which time I should have moved into a mansion in Kensington, bought a small island in the Carribean and holidayed on Mars.