Fshhhhhhhhh...
The warm water runs gently across my hands and slips into a pool around the drain, lapping against the sticky plates and coffee stained mugs.
The soap is slick across my fingers as I massage a few drops into our old yellow sponge. The bubbles foam out of the sides, dripping into a dirty pot with a soft splash. Lavender wafts from the sink and into my nose, mingled with the sharp scent of week-old lasagna sauce and sour coffee creamer, stuck to the bottom of more than one brightly colored mug.
I dip my hands into the water, pulling out a plate. This one was from taco night. There's still sour cream solidified on one side. I brush the sponge gently across its surface, pressing harder where the messes are. It comes clean with little effort, and I shake it off before placing it upside down in the cabinet above my head.
Dip in again, this time pulling out a bowl. It looks clean already. Closer inspection reveals it was a cereal bowl. I brush out the few remaining crumbs and rinse, placing it in the adjacent cabinet.
Next, is a mug. Morning coffee, two or three days ago. The grounds leave dark brown lines across the interior, like a growth chart in reverse. A shrink chart? The stains come off easily with a swipe of my magic sponge. It's the dried on cream that takes time. I scrub away at the solidified mass, gradually pulling it out, and run the mug under the now-hot water, for good measure. It, too, goes into a cabinet, this one to my right.
Out comes a pot. Ugh. Pizza sauce. Jeremy makes the best pizza, but cleaning the sauce off the pot is the worst. It goes sour as soon as it cools, leaving a tomato pulp film across the bottom, as the juice cooks off and evaporates. The sticky mass collects on my sponge and I have to rinse it several times, nearly running out of soap in the process. I squirt in a few more drops, squelching the suds into the pot. It, too, gets a final rinse, and finds its home on the wire shelves behind me.
So it goes, plate, mug, bowl, mug, plate, pot, bowl, pan, until all that's left is the silverware. Good God, how many forks do we own? Each one gets a swipe from the sponge, a rinse in the running water, and plink! into the silverware holder. One by one, swipe, rinse, plink! swipe, rinse, plink! until the sink is finally empty.
I run my hands under the warm water, smushing the last of the suds out of the sponge, before placing it in its dish at the head of the sink. I shake the last few drips from my fingers, then turn to the fridge.
Dinner time.
--------------------
The warm water runs gently across my hands and slips into a pool around the drain, lapping against the sticky plates and coffee stained mugs.
The soap is slick across my fingers as I massage a few drops into our old yellow sponge. The bubbles foam out of the sides, dripping into a dirty pot with a soft splash. Lavender wafts from the sink and into my nose, mingled with the sharp scent of week-old lasagna sauce and sour coffee creamer, stuck to the bottom of more than one brightly colored mug.
I dip my hands into the water, pulling out a plate. This one was from taco night. There's still sour cream solidified on one side. I brush the sponge gently across its surface, pressing harder where the messes are. It comes clean with little effort, and I shake it off before placing it upside down in the cabinet above my head.
Dip in again, this time pulling out a bowl. It looks clean already. Closer inspection reveals it was a cereal bowl. I brush out the few remaining crumbs and rinse, placing it in the adjacent cabinet.
Next, is a mug. Morning coffee, two or three days ago. The grounds leave dark brown lines across the interior, like a growth chart in reverse. A shrink chart? The stains come off easily with a swipe of my magic sponge. It's the dried on cream that takes time. I scrub away at the solidified mass, gradually pulling it out, and run the mug under the now-hot water, for good measure. It, too, goes into a cabinet, this one to my right.
Out comes a pot. Ugh. Pizza sauce. Jeremy makes the best pizza, but cleaning the sauce off the pot is the worst. It goes sour as soon as it cools, leaving a tomato pulp film across the bottom, as the juice cooks off and evaporates. The sticky mass collects on my sponge and I have to rinse it several times, nearly running out of soap in the process. I squirt in a few more drops, squelching the suds into the pot. It, too, gets a final rinse, and finds its home on the wire shelves behind me.
So it goes, plate, mug, bowl, mug, plate, pot, bowl, pan, until all that's left is the silverware. Good God, how many forks do we own? Each one gets a swipe from the sponge, a rinse in the running water, and plink! into the silverware holder. One by one, swipe, rinse, plink! swipe, rinse, plink! until the sink is finally empty.
I run my hands under the warm water, smushing the last of the suds out of the sponge, before placing it in its dish at the head of the sink. I shake the last few drips from my fingers, then turn to the fridge.
Dinner time.
--------------------
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