Overthrowing Communism in the Kitchen

I haven't posted anything in a while.  Been too busy loading and unloading the dishwasher, which is the basis of this post's inspiration.

We recently finished a remodel of our kitchen from top to bottom.  I like it a lot.  It's clean and neat and orderly.   Perhaps that's why I began loading and unloading the dishwasher throughout the day.   I like keeping the counter clear so you can see the loveliness of it all.

But enough is enough.  After several weeks of being the sole person to manage the dishes, I suggested to my Hubby that he should take a turn.  This didn't seem to be that much of a stretch to me.   In our old kitchen he was such a stickler that he would always reload the dishwasher after I loaded it.  I didn't have the right technique or something.    But in response to my simple request he said, "We're a communist household.  We all do whatever needs to be done."

Uh, oh.  This is how I ended up being the primary wage earner for 18 years while Hubby stayed home with Darling Daughter.    No discussion.  Just do whatever needs to be done.

But gosh darn it, when it comes to loading the dishwasher, I want to live in a democracy!  I want to talk it through.   I want to vote on what I want to do, not just do simply because no one else will.   But Hubby refused to discuss.

So I had to take matters into my own hands.  Last Saturday I declared that I would do the dishes thing Monday through Friday, but the weekends needed to be covered by Hubby and Darling Daughter.   So on Saturday I went on strike.  

I watched the dirty dishes pile up in and around the sink on Saturday.    I watched as the number of clean forks, spoons and coffee cups dwindled.  I watched them avoid emptying the clean dishes from the dishwasher though it was the only place where a new supply of utensils and cups could be found.  (I personally simply pulled things from the dishwasher as I needed them, though admittedly tried to hide the fact since I didn't want them to get any ideas.)  At the end of the day Saturday, nothing had been touched.

When Sunday rolled around, Hubby and Darling Daughter dirtied up in the kitchen as always without lifting a finger to clean anything.    By midday, there was hardly a bare spot left on the counter.  It left me weak and shaky but I stuck to my plan and refused to play dishwasher maid to the household.   However, I found myself debating in my head whether I would clean up after everyone on Monday, if nothing had been done.

Fortunately by Sunday evening Hubby took his turn.  He wanted to make dinner and realized there was no counter space available.  So he loaded and ran the dishwasher and washed up the pots and pans.   Of course dinner created a new mess, but I felt that my revolt had produced results.

I volunteered to clean up the dinner dishes that night.  After all, I've never taken a turn making dinner.  Call me a communist if you must.