This is going to sound completely whack-a-doo to folks whose thought processes aren't as rigid as mine (read: most of the population, probably), but I've had two epiphanies in the kitchen recently, in the the form of a
roasting pan (if you follow that hyperlink -- oh my god! I hope mine didn't cost $199! I received it as a gift a while back) and a
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I'm sure that fat drippings smell really awesome when they're left sitting in a pan for days at a time. Shudder. It's difficult negotiating chores with someone whose standards of cleanliness are lower than your own (i.e. "some" versus "none"). I've definitely let my dishwashing routine slide a lot since havng kids, though. But it's hard to make the time! Yesterday, I let MaryAlice "help" me by pulling a chair up to the sink and allowing her to splash around a little. A few minutes into this arrangement, she climbed down from the chair, presumably to go play by herself -- which was just fine with me, because it made the job go quicker. Then I heard Stuart call from the living room, "Mo-om! MaryAlice has a knife, and she's trying to stab me!"
"Stab" might have been slight hyperbole. But the rest of the report was accurate. She'd grabbed -- not a butter knife, but a paring knife out of the sink, luckily managing to avoid injury (to self or others, heh).
D'oh.
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The issue isn't quite that I have a higher standard of cleanliness, per se, as my house is pretty cluttered and has quite a bit of ambient dust and dirt. I'm not happy about this, necessarily, but clearly not unhappy enough about it to alter my current weekend-party-time schedule to step up my cleaning routine. But I consider dirt and dust, though a hazard to allergies and asthma, to be relatively "clean," in the sense that they don't house all kinds of nasty bacteria or really create a funky smell. Meat rot and vegetable matter soaking in four inches of water in the sink for four days are NOT clean.
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