Oh, how I loved this book when I was little. I used to feel so sorry for that cute little bachelor with his bald head and bowler hat who never washed his dishes - probably because it was the 60s and I thought he needed a wife to do that for him - so he let them pile up in chairs, on the bookcase, under the bed, on top of lamps and everywhere else until his house got so full of dirty dishes he had no where to sit or stand or lay.
Finally, he loaded them all up in the back of his pick up truck and let the rain wash them for him. All that effort just to avoid a mundane household chore. Of course, I should have seen him as the lazy slob he was, but I am a visual person and was too caught up in the illustrations of towering teacups and where the man's little black cat would wind up on each page.
We're in the middle of a complete kitchen remodel here, so at the moment, our house doesn't look much different than TMWDWHD's. But we have a good excuse. We don't have a kitchen sink! Or cabinets! Or counters! But it is here that I must confess than it is the man in this house who washes the dishes these days. My husband has been hiking down the basement stairs for seven weeks with every cup and dish and has been washing them in the that cold dungeon because I am serving as Chief In Charge of the construction zone and have enough on my plate, if you will. After they're clean and dry he hauls them all back upstairs again. Lucky for me, I have a man who does wash his dishes, and the rest of the family's as well.
The moral of the story, kids, is that if we don't take care of the little problems, they become big ones. But if you marry right, you might get out of doing the dishes, at least when the going gets rough.
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