Oh yes, I am the kitchen nazi. Well, it is my designated role, since Sam cooks. I never complain about having to clean because no matter how much disarray the kitchen is in, it never normally takes me any longer than 15 minutes, or thereabouts, to clean it up. And that is a premium result over having to shop and cook for everyone, me, Sam and Charlie.
We also have what has turned into a permanent house guest in Toby, who just came to stay during his divorce and ever since he seems to have forgotten to leave. He cooks and cleans for himself, though.
Anyway, back to the kitchen and my nazi status, I like things done the way I like them done.
I'll have none of this combined scourer and sponge nonsense, it is just unnatural, scourers and sponges are not meant to be joined, it's just ridiculous. Separate sponges and scourers please. I mean, they have different functions, scourers are meant to be used on dishes, while sponges are meant to wipe down benches, or wipe up spills, and the like.
Oh yes, I am the dishwasher nazi too. I decry the world when I see the big bowls put inside the small bowls, or the plates put in with the bowls, or the upper basket mixed up with the lower basket wilfully, do you people have no sense at all? I am often heard to mumble something about the world is full of idiots when I am at the dishwasher loading dirty dishes.
Toby for the longest time washed all the dishes he uses by hand, which seemed weird when we have a dishwasher. I suspect Sam said something to him after I said something to Sam. I was only making comment, I wasn't making suggestions for Toby to use the dishwasher, just that it was odd. As Charlie certainly doesn't know what the dishwasher is, and Sam never puts anything in it as he cooks and I really think he thinks he shouldn't have to, with which I don't disagree, so that only leaves one person who fucks up the order of the dishwasher, Toby.
And Sam said that I couldn't ask him to leave because he messes up the dishwasher, he said that isn't a reason to ask someone to leave.
"So, when is he leaving?" (I don't care, honestly) I asked.
"Yes, well, who knows," said Sam.
"What did we say at the beginning?" I asked.
"We said, Oh you poor thing, that is terrible that Brad cheated on you, and with so many other guys, come and stay at our place if you need to get out of there."
He must have gone straight home and packed his bags straight away, turning up at our door that night.
"We didn't say for how long, did we?" I asked Sam.
"No, we didn't."
"So, how long do you think he is staying?"
"I don't know," said Sam. "Ask him?"
"You ask him," I said.
"You ask him," said Sam.
"Don't you think it should be something he should be asking us?" I said.
"Do you want him to leave?" asked Sam.
"No, not particularly," I said.
"Well, there you go," said Sam.
"What does that mean?" I asked.
Sam shrugged. "Whatever you want it to mean."
"Huh?"
Sam just gazed back at me without answering.
No comments:
Post a Comment