I'm not going to bitch about my 11-day-old cold this morning! (I'm calling the doctor, but I don't expect any magic cures.)
I ate a small serving of this most delicious bean-and-sausage stew last night around 7 p.m., and then rinsed and put my dirty dishes into the dishwasher. As I gazed into the racks, this thought occurred to me:
My husband does not know how to load a dishwasher.
The larger soup bowl he had used earlier in the evening was tilting haphazardly in the top rack. The ladle was rinsed and sitting on the counter, after he had already asked me where it was supposed to go.
In the lower rack were a plastic cup and a plastic storage container and three coffee mugs.
My son-in-law can load three days' worth of dishes into a dishwasher with room to spare. How did my husband miss this particular skill?
He has plenty of good qualities, believe me, but he's not very detail-oriented when it comes to household things. (He's a retired physician and was very detail-oriented when it came to his patients! Maybe he used up all his detail skills in his practice.)
Anyway. I reloaded the dishwasher, set the timer and went back to bed, to sleep and cough the night away. (Does that count as bitching? I hope not. Apologies if needed …)