Don'tcha just love it Deux

Tony has preferences. . .strong preferences. . .have I mentioned that before?

He is an excellent teacher. He makes LOTS of parent phone calls. When he makes parent phone calls, he prefers to sit at the kitchen table. The kitchen is Grand Central Station in our home. . .and is only a child's voice away from the living room which is whatever the next busiest thing to Grand Central Station is. Tony also prefers that we be absolutely silent while he makes phone calls. He does not prefer to go upstairs to our bedroom which is just a lovely little stop on the way to Grand Central Station and which has a locking door for his quiet, solitudinous convenience. There is lots and lots of shushing going on during parent phone call time.

In an effort to keep my kitchen clean, I have been RELIGIOUSLY running the dishwasher once a day whether it is fully loaded or not. I must, must, must do this or things stack up and then you can just call 'er done. This afternoon I revved up the dishwasher and let her go AFTER Tony was through with his parent phone calls, which leads me to. . .

Don'tcha just love it when you unload the ENTIRE batch of dishes you did only to discover AFTER all has been put away that your husband stopped it BEFORE the rinse cycle so he could make ONE MORE PHONE CALL and then promptly FORGOT TO RESTART IT??????? AAAARRRGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!

And it's cold season. So I am rewashing every fork, spoon, and glass we own since I didn't memorize which ones I put away. The bowls and plates. . .well, each man for himself with those. They look fine. They don't feel gritty, and I figure they don't actually touch our mouths.