Squeaky Clean

So, last Friday evening Mark didn't make dinner. It wasn't a big deal, there were plenty of leftovers in the fridge. What that meant though is that there were no piles of dinner dishes to be washed, and as a result I left the breakfast dishes in the dishwasher from earlier in the day. Later Friday evening I desired some ice cream, so from the dishwasher I took out a bowl and the ice cream scoop which were still in there. I scooped out three big mounds of ice cream and sat down to watch some TV while sucking down rum raisin. Saturday morning I started making breakfast just like I did Friday morning. Once again I went to the dishwasher, got out the egg flipper things and a couple of dishes. Eggs, bacon, and something I call roast pork hash were what was on the menu. And although Mark simply tolerates my cooking, he liked my roast pork hash. Probably because he made the roast pork. Anyway, it was when breakfast was finished and I started to clean up that the horror of it all hit me. I opened the dishwasher to unload the stuff that was left in there from the day before. That was when I saw it. The little trap door behind which the dish washing detergent is placed. It was closed, the soap hadn't been dispensed. The only reason it would be in that position is because I had forgotten to turn on the dishwasher twenty four hours earlier. I had eaten ice cream, eggs, bacon, and roast pork hash off of dirty dishes. I did not tell Mark about what had happened, that wouldn't have really done me any good. If he doesn't die from something he caught off of those dishes, I say what he doesn't know won't hurt him. Of course the reason I couldn't tell that the dishes in the dishwasher were dirty is because of who had pre-cleaned them.

The dishes were spotless.