Recently I think everyone has just given up on doing dishes. I guess that it is simply too onerous a task to pick up the heavy, jumbo sized bottle of orange anti bacterial dish soap, and squirt a small amount upon a plate/cup/bowl. Which I can understand completely. I mean, it is quite the stressful venture, attempting to squirt just the perfect amount of soap upon said eating implement. Mentally trying. Too much detergent means too many suds, and an unnecessary amount of chemicals wreaking havoc upon the environment. Plus too much soap makes for a difficult rinsing process, which will add an extra 8-13 seconds to the overall washing experience. Not to mention that wielding the toilet-scrubber-made-dish-scrubber can cause unnecessary elbow and/or wrist trauma, if one were to be overly vigorous with one's scrubbing. And then we have hospital bills to worry about, all in the name of avoiding a rotting, mephitic nightmare in the sink.
I mean, I like sauntering past the sink and nearly passing out from from a nasal assault by a funk redolent of a rotting corpse, just as much as the next asshole.
Am I an asshole because I refuse to clean up after my roommates? I keep my own bowl, spoon, and cup in my cupboard. That is generally the extent of my utensil/dishware usage. I eat cereal. And the occasional quesadilla. And I always wash the plate immediately after quesadilla consumption. It isn't hard. It really bloody isn't.
I guess I am used to living without a dishwasher and a mother, and therefore I have grown accustomed to taking 30 seconds after I eat something and washing it. Do I have a multitude of other flaws? Yes indeed I do. But I am an impeccable dishwasher. Nothing is more frustrating than having the desire to immediately consume something that requires a fork, and realizing that every fork in the house has been discarded and left for dead in the sink, like abandoned Armenian orphans.
Even orphans deserve to be washed once and a while.