I married Husband because he’s smarter than I am. I like that in a person.
Sons #1 and #2 are smarter than I am, too. Or will be, once they finish figuring things out. That pleases me as well.
It’s trivial things that don’t please me. Things that don’t matter. Things I certainly shouldn’t write about here.
Those things nonetheless make me stop and re-evaluate the life decisions that led me to this sorry pass.
No, this isn’t another rant about changing the roll of toilet paper. This is a rant about the kitchen sink. Specifically about the sink – not that “everything but the” sense.
Our plumbing is old. We baby it. Yes, this is a sad way to spend the days of our maturity. Surely by now we have earned the right to heedless self-indulgence? Surely our plumbing should be babying us, at this point?
By rights, I should own a $4,800 computerized toilet with voice-activated flush commands (no lie; you can google on it. Voice-activated wipe commands will surely be next: “A little to the left, Alexa”).
Instead, there’s a garbage disposal in the kitchen sink that we simply don’t use, having wearied of sludgy ugliness backing up into the basement. The mesh screen in the kitchen sink collects food scraps, which then get thrown in the trash.
The gentlemen I live with are always careful to clean up after themselves in the kitchen. Their standards are high.
The kitchen sink is low. No-one but me notices the slimy stuff decaying there. Clearly, I need to get a grip and empty the damned strainer myself.
I’m thinking I’ll create a calendar, though – A Year Of Meals Left In The Sink. Daily photos, and a Name That Dinner contest.
Any other silly pet peeves out there?