8 (or so) and counting...

As I may have mentioned before, I do the dishes at night. My precious wife has supper prepared before she goes to work so that all I usually have to do is pop it in the oven at a pre-agreed-upon temp. She comes home, finishes supper, and we all eat together. She takes Delaney for a bath and I clean up the kitchen. It normally runs pretty smoothly.

There is one flaw in our plan. I am a ham-fisted buffoon. As such, I break dishes...a lot. Its like I am hypnotized. When I hear the sound of water running in the sink, I immediately think that I am at a Greek wedding. I throw money at musicians. Everyone gets koufeta. And a dish must die. Last night another dish felt my celebratory wrath. When we first arrived in Scotland we ate at a McDonalds that was giving away 'real glass' Coca-cola glasses. We both really liked that glass. Well, after last night all that remains of it are shards and fond memories. Simera Gamos Ginete....Oopaahh!

We estimate that I have broken 8 glasses/dishes over the last year. If you count the ones that I have 'chipped' (I called it 'distressed'), the number goes up a little bit. The sad thing is I am not doing this on purpose to avoid doing dishes. Dish time is when I listen to podcasts and settle my mind after a day of study. I actually like dishes. Nothin' but love for them. But its almost like they are artificially-smoothed glass covered in slippery soap or something. I just can't explain it.