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Friday, May 24, 2013

Dear Kitchen Sink,

I think I hate you.

I get it.  It's not nice of me to be so blatantly against you.  It's really not your fault that we have the relationship we do right now.

It's just that it doesn't seem to matter what I do - how many times I run the dishwasher, how many pans my mom washes for me while she is here, or how many times I eat on a napkin to avoid adding a plate to the mess.  The piles just keep getting higher.


Lincoln's dried-up, rejected cottage cheese is grossing me out.

The wet and sometimes smelly dish towels that have mopped up milk, cheerio dust, and baby spit are disgusting.

Mold-filled dinosaur bath toys - I know I put you behind the faucet, but I don't have time to fix you right now. 

Empty paper towel holder - seriously, you're empty again?

Sigh. 

I guess it's actually okay.  Because if I ever found the sink and counter, I would definitely need to clean them.  And that's something I can live without doing for awhile longer!

2 comments:

  1. I could write this post about laundry! It just never seems to end. I have about 4 folded piles that haven't made it to their home and a big pile that hasn't made it out of the dryer! But who has time for chores when there are cute little faces smiling at you? ;-)

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    Replies
    1. Oh my goodness, the laundry! Wait til your twins are old enough to start pulling the folded piles down off the couch...that's what Lincoln does and, subsequently, why I hardly bother to fold it anymore. :p

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