It’s late. I’m tired. The boys are in bed, I’ve got a load of laundry in the washer, and I’m ready to sit and decompress for a few minutes before bed. But I know you’ll be waiting.
It doesn’t matter how long I take to get back downstairs - ten minutes… thirty… an hour. I’ll turn the corner to do a final sweep of the kitchen for toys, and there you’ll be. My husband can have finished clearing the dishes, the dishwasher loaded, the counters wiped, and the lunches prepped for tomorrow. But you’ll still be there. Most nights I expect you. Honestly, at this point it’s routine. But other nights, you catch me quite off guard. Perhaps I don’t follow my typical path downstairs; maybe I pause to pick up a few stray toys or backtrack to put gloves back into a school bag. Usually this happens on nights when the lights are off, and I assume there’s nothing left to do. On my way through the kitchen, you’ll stop me in my tracks. I’ll think there’s random clutter all over the counter next to the fridge. But no. It’s just you. THE TUPPERWARE. For it’s an unspoken agreement in our house. My husband does not put away the tupperware. If they’re in the dishwasher, he’ll dry them and stack them. Or he’ll handwash, dry, and pile. Either way, one thing is for certain: the tupperware will always be waiting for me on the counter right above the drawer they call home. I can’t quite remember how this came to be. Was it initially laziness on his part? Or maybe once he had it off to the side, it was out of sight out of mind? Or maybe the drawer that’s too small and too full was also too daunting to tackle? Regardless of how we ended up here, I just know it’s where we are. The unspoken agreement. You stack them; I’ll store them.
1 Comment
3/23/2023 02:56:22 pm
What a unique "agreement" and a fun slice. Thanks for sharing.
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March 2022
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