Our kitchen has never contained so many unwashed dishes at one time. Ever. I would need a wide-angle lens to capture the wreckage in full glory. It extends across another counter and onto the (unwashed, naturally) island. I had to wash a bunch of dishes this morning before I had enough clean ones to even make breakfast. That cake pan is from before we went on vacation. It’s gross.
So this post is for anybody needing a moment’s space where it’s ok to admit you’re not fully awesome. At everything. All at once.
I, for example, have a butt load of dirty dishes in my kitchen, and yes, I’m probably going to wash a couple whenever I have a few spare minutes during the day (or, more to the point, until we reach the point where Iris is clinging to my legs, sobbing). But I’m also going to watch costume dramas and eat snacks and play with Iris, and when she takes a nap this afternoon—I’m just guessing here—but pretty sure I’m going to sleep too.
That’s how we roll, people.
And it feels good.
Except when I walk in the kitchen. That continues to not feel good. I’m not sure what to do about that.