Mutiny in the Kitchen!

   My teapot pushes its way through the stack of soiled dishes, demanding,  “Wash me first!  After all, I’m English.”

   “Unfair!” the flatware protests, clattering in the sink.  “We may be cheap imports from Taiwan, but without forks and spoons, your guests would have to eat with their fingers.  Give us the first dip in the hot and sudsy!”

   “So what am I?  Chipped china?” the Mikasa plate asks.  “I came from a very exclusive store, you know, even if I was marked ‘clearance’.  You must wash this dried spaghetti sauce off my face at once!”

   The tumblers and mugs form a beverage serving union because there are so many of them.  “You have to wash us right now, or we’ll strike!  You can’t drink anything without us!” they threatened.  “To the top rack of the dishwasher; quit wasting our valuable time!”

   Black and crusty, the old iron skillet grumbles, “Little fools, who wants to be hosed off by a machine?  I want my skin rubbed hard, scratched almost rough, and then finished off with a nice scouring pad treatment.

   The limp, wadded up dishcloth, refuses to join in, as usual.  It exudes a dank, sour smell.  The faucets ignore everything.

   The Dawn dish detergent bottle, smiling blue and serene, offers to bubble.

   I glare at the unsightly lot.  “I can’t deal with dishes now – you can all just wait till morning!”  I slam the door.  That’s when the real arguing starts.  I listen through the kitchen door and hear terrible noises, screeches like splintering and shattering glass and a frightening banging and clanging of pots and pans.  There is mutiny in the kitchen!

   My dishes are miffed because they are thought of as mere eating utensils, so they mount a revolt!  I peek through the keyhole:  a serving bowl is screaming, “We will be stacked away neatly – or else!”  Next to it, a storage container is whining, “I want to be nestled with my counterparts, with our lids nearby…”

   It is just as I always suspected:  my Tupperware has wild orgies behind the closed cabinet doors.  It explains the slippery, messy mountain of plastic in there – it really does multiply overnight!

   What can I do?  I don’t have time to clean the kitchen constantly.  I barely have time to eat, much less  cook, wash, dry, and place everything in department store order.

   I crack the door an inch and warn, “Behave!  Or I’ll let the children wash you and we’ll all be sorry!” 

   I go to bed and dream of veggies they won’t be stir-fried, potatoes that won’t mash, chicken that won’t be baked.  The alarm wakes me.  I need coffee, but I wonder what awaits me in the kitchen???

   I slowly open the door and see an empty sink.  I open cabinets and see dishes neatly stacked.  Spotless silverware gleams from its tray, in perfect order.  The tea kettle is polished and sitting primly on its burner.

   “Yes!” I say, smiling victoriously. 

   …Now if I can only get the refrigerator to clean itself next…