Hazardous Kitchen

The kitchen is a mess. Understatement.

The dishwasher it seems, has decided to not play nice with the new detergent. The cleanliness of the dishes inside is rather random. The cleanliness of the dishes not inside is nonexistent. The sink is full of what was once warm soapy water keeping the food from hardening on the surfaces of various items that live in the kitchen, and the piles on the counters are becoming rather precarious.

I think it must be time to do something. Before the groceries come. Before the people in the hazmat suits arrive to accuse me of creating a bio-hazardous environment. Of course, that means my shower will have to wait. Maybe the hazmat suits will show up after all.

Luckily (or more honestly - it's because I'm kinda smart that way), my kitchen is arranged in a very user friendly manner. Originally, I had all the daily use stuff on open shelves to provide easy access for my son, with the goal of fostering independence. Now, it turns out, it has fostered my independence!

Thanks to my Montessorian kitchen layout, I can pull up a chair next to the dishwasher, and empty most of it without getting up. The problem this week has been that only some of the dishes are clean. Which means I have to inspect each one as it comes out, consider what to do with it, and then find a place to perch the still dirty ones.

I have to use my brain as well as my arms? What?!?

There are people (friends, family, maids) who would be happy to do this for me. I know that. They've offered. And I've told them in no uncertain terms to stay out of my kitchen. Bullheaded? Who me? Well, yes, but here's the thing: I need to feel like I am in some sort of control. I need to feel that I am actually capable of maintaining my own home, of living independently. If I can't do this, then it seem like my tenacious hold on my home is really just a waste of time and money. Mine and other people's.

So off I go to tackle my hazardous kitchen, even if it takes me all day of working for 5 mintues and resting for 30.  Cha-Gheill!
(for the uninitiated, that's the battle cry of the Golden Gaels, Queen's University)