Every year since we've lived in Utah, between Christmas and New Year's, the skiers descend upon us. This year it's just the Engineer's identical twin brother, Twin'sWife and D, who is non-biological family. They've all been here many times and figure it's an extension of home. They know where everything is and run amuck through the house, demanding extension cords for their laptops and Perrier for their nightstands. At that point, the Engineer usually makes a loud announcement, "The guests are revolting." (Take that however you choose.)
Twin'sWife and D are both gourmet cooks. They immediately invade the kitchen and start cooking. Every year they make garlic soup, so I make sure to lay in a good supply of garlic - the recipe calls for 44 cloves, but why go half way. It's absolutely wonderful, but the next day you'd best hang around with folks who have also eaten it...
The kitchen invasion doesn't stop with cooking, they also do dishes. TheTwin is much better trained than the Engineer. Tonight he charged right in to the kitchen and started doing dishes before I could even arise from the table.
Now, as anyone who knows me at all well can tell you, I'm not the neatest kid on the block and I hate to do dishes. I should be eternally grateful to the relatives for taking care of it for me. But, nasty creature that I can be, it really grooches me.
I'm a picky old broad and set in my ways. I have definite ideas as to what belongs in a dishwasher and what doesn't. I'm also a nut for loading it "properly" so that every item gets an equal squirt of the water.
TheTwin and Twin'sWife both wash dishes three or four times faster than I do. Stuff flies from the counter to the dishwasher all helter skelter and stuff that doesn't get dishwashered gets a swish with a soapy sponge and tossed into the drainer. Or dried with a linen. A cotton terry towel won't do, it has to be a linen towel. They can go through five or six linens a meal and a half a roll of paper towels.
One might think this leads to sparkling clean dishes, but it doesn't. It leads to goobers.
I hate goobers.
But what's a goober hater to do? These folks have just washed my dishes, a task that I devoutly hate. I never ask them to, they just do it.
But they leave goobers all over everything.
I can't whine and moan after they've just done something above and beyond.
And they throw things in the dishwasher that I never put in. I was hoping tonight to slip back into the kitchen after they'd all gone to bed to rearrange things "properly" in the dishwasher, removing and hand washing the misplaced items, and to hunt for goobers on things TheTwin had hand washed.
It was not to be, however. TheTwin squirted the dishwasher detergent in, slammed the door and pushed the start button.
Aauuggg! I was too disheartened to even begin to hunt for goobers after that.
Besides, I know I will find all the goobers eventually.
How happy for me.
(Ungrateful bitch, ain't I?)