I remember when I was a kid and my family lived in a roomy three bedroom duplex ... My grandmother had the master bed/bath, and the "girls room" was like a dorm, bunk beds for my friend/cousin and I, and then another bed for my cousin's psycho sister. When my great-grandmother moved in because we didn't want her in a nursing home it was even worse, and then there was my boy cousin who was lucky to have his own space. We had to wash the dishes every night after dinner, and we each had a chore. Someone had to wash, someone had to rinse, and someone had to stack the dishes on the drying thingie, plus dry all the pots and pans because my grandmother refused to just let them dry on their own. I think she was convinced that they wouldn't possibly dry without being touched by a towel ... there was no way air alone could do the job. We would rotate jobs each day, and it sucked. It still sucks. And the sad thing is, my six year old, Teenybop ... she loves to wash dishes! But I can't let her take over, firstly because I actually like not getting food poisoning from dirty dishes, and secondly because we have really heavy dishes and I would rather wash them myself than have no dishes at all.
But still, I hate washing dishes. I am praying this week with my whole heart that when we get to the Army post, we will get a house/townhouse/duplex ... with a dishwasher.
