I am possibly the only person in the developed world who doesn't have a dishwasher. FFS!?
I have been offered one, but I couldn't possibly bring myself to part with my extensive collection of take away containers to make space under the kichen bench for it. FFS!?
I hate seeing dirty dishes lying around.
Now, before my family interject here - I hate seeing dirty dishes in the sink. That doesn't mean I spring into action to wash them. Not when I can walk past them multiple times a day and revel in some bitter, pissy muttering under my breath every time I see them.
I also have kids who must use a fresh plate for every food item. Be it a sandwich, a multivitamin, a Tic Tac or a cup of milk that will only be drunk if presented on top of the plate. FFS!?
Unless we're in Bali, in which case Macca's can be eaten from the home delivery bag in which it came, the fist of a sibling who wasn't quick enough to down their burger, or the pathway outside their hotel room where a stray french fry has been spotted.
Hey, don't judge - what happens in Bali, stays in Bali.
But here at home, suffice to say I am forever washing the same set of bloody dishes. FFS!?
It shits me no end. No end, I tell you.
It also means I can no longer pursue my dream career as a hand model, on account of the dish water hands I am left with. FFS!?
Because that would have to be the easiest modelling career in the world, right? Travelling the globe attached to some big muscly rock star, putting in the odd 2 hour day flashing my digits for Tiffany & Co or Palmolive or whoever. But I digress....
The Twin Tornado have identical plates. Which you'd think makes things easier - but you'd be wrong.
They constantly fight over who has which plate. FFS!?
They refuse to choose different plates that would be easily identifiable. FFS!?
This week their dish discernment came to a head.
I was preparing their post-breakfast multivitamin, and of course, The Twin Tornado would only consume their one single Vita Gummies supplement from their plates.
One plate located, the other.....missing. FFS!?
Cue massive fights over whose plate was present and whose plate was unaccounted for. The identical plates, that is. FFS!?
I shit you not when I say that we spent AN ENTIRE BLOODY MORNING and half the afternoon searching for the missing plate. FFS!?
WTF?! Where could it possibly go? It was used less than an hour before its disappearance. FFS!?
I searched far and wide. Near and far. Up and down. Inside and outside. That bastard plate was nowhere. FFS!?
There was a Mexican standoff as both twins attempted to claim ownership of the one plate, refusing all others.
I tried not to lose my shit over the fact that they hadn't eaten their multi vitamin and therefore their brains were slowly dying from the lack of Omega 3, and it would be mere minutes before they succumbed to some deadly virus on account of their immune systems suffering from the lack of Vitamin C and A and B and E, and also F and U and C and K. FFS!?
Finally, shitted / shat / shited to the max, I decided to take them shopping to buy a new plate each. It was the only way to simultaneously shut them the hell up and get them to eat. While also procuring a much needed flat white and some sushi for my own essential Omega 3 consumption and maybe a spot of window shopping and oh wow, are those boots on sale?
So I let the now cold and disgusting dish water out of the sink, which had been abandoned following the morning's dishes and the ensuing mass hysteria at the end of the world as we know it on account of the missing melamine zoo animal plate.
Son of a....
Guess where the other plate was? FFS!?
This would not have happened if I had a dishwasher. FFS!?