It wasn’t until I left home for college that it came out of the shadows and began the onslaught.
Your mom isn’t around to protect you from me now! it seems to jeer at me each time a battle begins. It’s up to you to face me now…alone!
I’ve been fighting this Enemy to what seems like no avail for the past six years of my life. It’s been exhausting. Morale is low. The Enemy is formidable, and while there have been many battles, the end of the war is still not within my sights.
Why me? I ask myself repeatedly; most people coexist peacefully, even symbiotically with what has become my arch nemesis. Why must I alone fight this entity day in and day out?
Yes, most people indeed coexist quite peacefully with….the Dishes. But not me, it seems – no, not me.
Many a bloody battle with the Dishes has taken place on my counter tops. You see, it is the nature of my Dishes to conquer and vanquish – they are constantly trying to annex different parts of my kitchen – they amass in the sink, then they invade my counter, and in extreme cases, even the stove and kitchen table.
The trouble is, those Dishes are cunning. They’re shrewd, and never attack en force immediately. It’ll start with the gathering of maybe two or three dishes in the sink. They look innocent enough, and always lull me into a false sense of security: Hey, we’re such a very few Dishes, we’re really not taking up that much space. And you just did Dishes last night; we know how you hate the water turning your fingers wrinkly and getting those bits of scraps stuck under your fingernails. Go on, put up your feet and read that copy of Elle we can see on the coffee table! Just relax!
And I fall for it every time. I tell you, those Dishes are sly. One baking session and two meal preps later, the Dishes have successfully (and messily) reclaimed my kitchen counter as their own. Routing them at this point is a serious undertaking. I gather my weapons – loads of grease-cutting soap and my trusty scrubbie, and prepare for a good solid hour of intense hand-to-hand combat. As I drop the first plate into the sink, another battle for the freedom of the kitchen counter commences.
Once upon a time, I was not alone in my ongoing quest to keep the Dishes at bay. Once upon a time, I had an ally – and this was not just any ally, this was the ally. When the almighty Dishwasher was on my side, not even a bread knife would step foot on my counter! Pots and pans quailed in my presence! I lived in peace, free of the constant threat from the Dishes that I now face daily. Ah, life was good when the Dishwasher was around.
As I write, I notice that there is a lone cup sitting sentient by the sink. I really should go take care of it; I know that by this evening several cohorts will have joined it, and I would like to avoid even a mild skirmish this weekend. I begin to get up. Hey, take it easy. It’s just me. What harm will a little old cup do? It’s the end of the week, you’ve worked hard. Go on, finish writing then go check Facebook. Just relax!