An open letter to that guy who lives here:

My dear,

The next time you leave for a business trip while I am not home please do not leave multiple containers each containing just the smallest amount of milk scattered about the house. I do not enjoy playing the “what the @#$%@#$ is that smell??!!!” game for several days in a row. In addition, while playing the game I was not amused to look in the sink under the many dishes left there and find the remains of your dinner rotting on a plate on top of the garbage disposal hole. I suppose with time the plate would have decomposed thus dropping the disgusting and soggy remains of a previous meal into the garbage disposal but it would be more pleasing for me if you did it yourself.

I would prefer not to have to have this little chat again. But if we have to, it will be accompanied by me rhythmically beating you about the head and shoulders with large sticks. I’m going to need to find a use for these crutches when I’m done with them anyway.


4 Replies to “A letter”

  1. My husband is a freak about putting food in the garbage disposal and running it, but he puts *every* dirty dish *on top* of the dishwasher. For the dish fairy, I think. Now only if the dish fairy left money!

  2. After you use them to beat your husband can I borrow them? He is the world’s worst for not loading his dirt dishes into the dish washer. When I fuss on him about it his excuse is ” uh I didn’t know if the ones in the washer were dirty or clean”

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