Zack and I are in a silent standoff over who is going to finally to do the dishes.

It’s not like either of us can pretend that we don’t realize that they need to be done.  They obviously need to be done.  There exists not one single clean eating utensil in my kitchen right now. In the whole kitchen!  The dishwasher is dirty, the stuff in the sink and on the counter? Dirty, too.  We have been dancing around doing the dishes for about 6 days now.  Both of us have been cleaning exactly 1 dish and 1 eating utensil whenever we need to ingest some food.

We’re not dirty people.  I have a whole armada of friends that would vouch for my cleanliness.

But somehow, while this type of behavior would usually bother me, this week I have only found it fascinating.  What if we never did the dishes again?  What if we just didn’t have any dishes at all?  What if we gave away every last plate and cup except two?  And then, those two could live in the sink always, and Zack and I could never have to do a thousand dishes at one time ever again.  And think of the cabinet space I’d have!  I could buy a lot more books.  I could have storage coming out my ears.

I’ve had several nursing friends over this week, and each time, instead of shamefully apologizing for the stacks of cereal bowls and crumby plates, I have only explained the situation with a flick of the hand and a sense of pride.  “Oh, nevermind the dishes,” I say, as I gesture toward the stacks of glasses. “Zack and I are in a stand off, and so far, I think I’m winning.”