Tonight I ate my ice cream with a fork. Well, it wasn’t really ice cream. It was a left over McDonald’s chocolate shake out of my freezer. When I left McDonald’s with my fresh chocolate shake I had a sip and it tasted great. Not Hagen Dazs, of course, but it’ll do in a pinch. Then I put it in my freezer for later. Now, it doesn’t even look like chocolate. The white and brown swirls would have looked good to me if I knew they were done on purpose to the inside of a pint of Ben & Jerry’s. But instead it was evidence that McDonald’s doesn’t actually serve real food.
I went looking for a clean spoon, knowing the ice cream wasn’t ice cream but wanted to eat it anyway. There were no clean spoons in my house. No regular size ice cream and cereal spoons. No too-big-for-my-mouth-but-use-when-everything-else-is-dirty spoons, no plastic spoons. I suppose I could have resorted to measuring spoons, but they have a weird shape and don’t feel good inside the mouth (yes, I know this by experience). I could have also condescended to using large mixing spoons, but those are too big to get into the opening of my non-ice-cream cup, much less my mouth (yes, I also know this by experience). And of course, I could have washed a spoon. But that would have required my emptying both sides of a messy sink in order to first find a spoon, and I wanted my non-ice-cream immediately!
So I grabbed a fork.
Ah, the wonderful texture of non-ice cream. A little too crunchy, not nearly as tasty as it was when it was semi-melted and fully blended. But it was cold, sweet, and available. I finished about half of it when I realized I really wasn’t enjoying it. So I walked past my dirty kitchen again, put the half eaten non-ice-cream back into the freezer for another night of non-enjoyment, and walked right past my dirty kitchen again on the way to bed. I wonder what will happen in the morning when it’s time for breakfast. My guess is that Mel will wash a spoon, Melissa will have toast, Spencer will use a dirty spoon, and Shannen and Noelle will whine that there are no clean spoons (meaning that they are just as incapable as I am of washing one when necessary). So when it’s time to feed the girls, I could wash a couple of spoons, but probably I’ll just make them some eggs.
Because I still have lots of clean forks.
3 comments:
I LOVE IT!
I hope this isn't rude, but I am so relieved to know that I am not the only person who can walk through my filthy kitchen on my way to bed with body too tired to care.
My whole kitchen (including the spoons) seems to fit snugly, right between a rock and a hard place - a really hard place. I have no dish washer, so I have few of everything; four cups, eight spoons, eight knives, six bowls...etc. I don't have enough room for hordes of dirtied dishes to pile up, there is no dishwasher to rely on, and when doing them by hand I don't want to have to wash 23 spoons.
Therefore, I "wash" a lot of spoons in the morning. Or, at least I give them a good little rinse before submerging it in the milk of a cereal bowl where children will not know it wasn't sparkling.
I'm so thrilled to read a post from you.
More.
More.
i second the motion!
you so don't want to see my dirty dish piles.
One of my biggest goals in life is to never go to bed with a dirty kitchen, because waking up to a dirty kitchen is SO DEPRESSING.
I can probably count on one hand the number of times I met my goal in the last year.
I guess I shouldn't complain that I can never find what I'm looking for in my kitchen because Brent can't seem to learn where things go. He actually does run and empty the dishwasher, which is more than I can say for myself.
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