Thursday, July 9, 2009

I Love Him Like a Brother...

So here's a story about Jeff, for all those people who weren't at lunch the other day:

When we were growing up, we all had chores (although my parents definitely mellowed as they got older to the point that, let me reiterate, Karen didn't know how to weed when she stayed with me). One of those chores was washing the dishes and there was a pair of us assigned to the task for each week.

(I can't remember if we had an automatic dishwasher at that time, but it doesn't really matter. My mom treated the dishwasher like an autoclave -- used to sterilize perfectly clean dishes.)

On this evening Jeff was washing and I was drying. Jeff was always quick doing everything, but quality often suffered. I kept handing back plates to be rewashed because they were all greasy.

Only when the dishes were almost completely done did I realize that he was using hand lotion instead of dish soap to clean the dishes.

Amazingly enough, Jeff turned out to be pretty normal, even if he is off this weekend shooting guns and drinking beer in the wilderness with his buddies...

4 comments:

JJ said...

Hmm...what is your definition of "pretty normal"? I am thinking normal is all perspective.

Theresa B (of Nebulopathy) said...

JJ, that is an excellent point. We'll just say that he turned out less whacked out than I thought he would. ;-)

A Free Man said...

My Mom did the same thing and firmly entrenched the theory that you only use the dishwasher as a final step in me. Drives my partner crazy.

Theresa B (of Nebulopathy) said...

AFM: I would undoubtedly be the same, but my dishwasher hasn't worked since I bought the house. I tried to get it replaced, but apparently they accidentally glued the old washer's feet to the sub-floor when the kitchen flooring was put in. Also, the kitchen flooring is over an inch high and I would have to remove a bunch in order to slide the thing out. Ultra-professional job in the kitchen all around...