Today is my first day off since Thursday. I just worked three 12s in a row. I did have a lovely weekend at work complete with a little free time, and a little drama and a few scattered emergencies. I came downstairs to make my breakfast this morning and was greeted by this staggering image:
Now, we’ve sort of divided up the chores around here and the kitchen is technically my chore. HOWEVER. Hubbin is 35 so I’m pretty sure he is capable of throwing out his garbage.
Wiping up cooking spills on the floor
and stove before they harden.
And perhaps rinsing out the dishes wouldn’t be too much to ask…
even though I’m sure loading them into the empty dishwasher is.
Just as a comparison,
the kitchen got a through cleaning
before I went back to work for a stretch
including a stove scrub and mopping.
I sent him a text at work today that said “I’m cleaning the kitchen. In all seriousness I need you to be a little bit better about the kitchen when I’m gone for a few days”