Other People's Dirty Dishes

When it comes to dirty dishes, everyone's got their own philosophy. There are some people who insist on cleaning, washing, sanitizing and drying every single plate, bowl, cup and utensil as soon as it gets dirty. And then there are those people who let things pile up and build to crisis levels before taking matters into hand.

I'm one of those people, I suppose, who falls somewhere in between those two extremes. There have been times in my life, though, when I let the dishes pile up so high for so long in my sink, that it seemed easier to simply throw everything away and start again. And I will admit that there were one or two times when I did just that.

There was something very liberating about that. Of course, that's not a very viable way to live on an ongoing basis. And it's certainly not viable when you go over to other people's houses for dinner and ask them afterwards, “Can I help with the dishes?”

That's really a loaded question. A lot of times, when I ask people if they need help with the dishes, I'm not expecting them to say “yes”. But I feel obligated to ask. A cousin of mine recently called me on this when I was at his house and he was making dinner. I sidled up to the counter and said, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

He smirked and said, “I used to use that trick on my mother.”

“That's not fair,” I said defensively. “Just tell me what to do and I'll do it.”

In my defense it wasn't entirely true that I didn't want to help. It's just that other people's kitchens can get really confusing. Pots and pans always seem to go in strange places. People use knives for certain things but not for other things. And then there's always that question of how to utilize those odd-shaped pieces of Tupperware with the mismatched lids to hold that leftover gallon of chicken soup or that tablespoon of tomato paste.

And then there's the problem of how to stack the dishes in the dishwasher. My sister's husband in Louisiana has a policy of not letting me do any dishes at their house, mostly because he doesn't agree with my style of loading the dishwasher. My brother-in-law likes to line up like-sized plates and like-sized bowls together in an easy-to-understand pattern. My style is a little more haphazard. I throw pots, pans, glasses, plates—anything that will fit into any nook and cranny in the dishwasher.

My brother-in-law doesn't understand this. “You Liebermans,” he says. “You're all alike.

That's why I don't let your sister do the dishes either.”

My sister and I have it down. We both have a knack for feigning incompetence as a way of avoiding as much responsibility as possible. But sometimes my guilty conscious gets the best of me, and I will do the dishes at my sister's house. But I do them secretly. I wait for her and her husband to go to work. When I'm sure they've left the house, I'll load the dishwasher in my own haphazard way, run the wash cycle and then race to unload them before they get home from work. On the good days, they'll be pleasantly surprised and tell me, “You're the best houseguest in the world!”

On the less fortunate days, one of them will come home early from work and catch me in the act and say, “I told you not do that!” Then they'll undo all my work and start again.

That doesn't bother me too much, though because it just reinforces what they already know—that it's best for me not to do anything at all. And that's something, in fact, that I can honestly say I do very well.

(Readers can e-mail Lisa at lisal@thegrid.net.)