To atone for this grievous misdeed, he promised he'd come home for lunch today to watch the kids so that I could blitz-clean the kitchen. That's right, people. Kitchen-cleaning is SO RARE in this house that it requires my husband to come home from work in the middle of the day.
Anyway, the plan was to clean because I'm inviting over a dear friend and her lovely kiddos tomorrow so that we can commiserate together about the injustices that require our spouses to spend a part of their weekend away from us ("us" being THE MOST IMPORTANT PEOPLE IN THE UNIVERSE). This will include eating lots of junk food and letting our kids run amok. Hopefully we will all survive the morning.
So we have these two silicone muffin tins that really needed washing, and I decided to wash them. Not just wash, but fill up the sink and soak and actually scrub them clean. Because once in a blue moon, on an occasion that is no doubt rarer than seeing pigs fly, I like to Get Things Done.
So I put the pluggy thing in and filled up the sink, squirted some dishsoap in, soaked the nasty tins and started to scrub away. It was awesome, the grody bits were melting right off like my makeup in the hot summer sun. "Oh, yeah," I remember thinking. "I can SO do this cleaning thing!"
And then the sink was filled with dirty muffin-crudded water and I had to let the water out to rinse the pans, because that's what normal people do with their dishes, right? Except the water was GROSS. So I took a deep breath and plunged my arm in up to my armpit in disgusting sludgy water to pull out the plug....
AND IT WOULDN'T COME OUT.
So I tried again. And again. Each time, plunging in further and further and pulling harder and harder and losing my grip, thereby splashing myself continuously until I was DRENCHED in sodden muffin bits. Barf-ola. I swear my kitchen sink is out to get me. It was jealous because I actually wanted to have some FUN tomorrow and so it was punishing me. Yeah, that's totally it.
Oh, and my "clean" muffin tins were now sitting in this nasty water. Grrreeeat. And then Yousuf had the AUDACITY to announce that he had to get going. Uh-uh. No way, buddy. We are DROWNING in wet muffin sludge and there is NO WAY you are leaving.
That's when he came into the kitchen, took a look around, sighed, and said: "You put the plug in the wrong way, didn't you?"
"What? Who? ME? NEVER. I know about sinks, mister. I KNOW how to put in a flipping sink plug, okay?"
"Well, have you ever done it before?"
At this point I am downright PISSED. Because what kind of a question is that? Of COURSE I've washed dishes before...under running water...and oh CRAP!!!
"Ummm...so maybe there is a chance that I haven't done it before. Here. In this house. But I HAVE filled up a sink before. Sometime in my life. JUST FIX THIS FOR FRICKS SAKE!"
And I have to give the man credit, he didn't even laugh at me. Oh, there was definitely some smirking going on, but I think he was far more disgusted by the fact that HE had to stick his hand into the muffin slime at this point. I almost told him that it was his fault for working on a Saturday, because it totally is -- if he wasn't working tomorrow, I wouldn't have invited my friend over, therefore I would have had no desire to clean up, and we wouldn't have had to build a raft to sail ourselves out of our kitchen filled with post-muffin-goo infested waters. But I didn't say that. But I totally wanted to. Because it's TRUE.
In the end, he had to trudge down to the basement and get PLIERS to pry the plug out. Yeah, so apparently I totally FUBARed that up, and the plug was in upside down. But you have to see this plug - IT'S NOT NORMAL. It's up and it's down are BASS ACKWARDS. And that's because my kitchen sink HATES ME.
Here is a normal sink plug. In a normal, loving, supportive kitchen sink:
The other side also has a convenient handle to pull out the plug. Or so I thought before I was neck-deep in dirty, grimy muffin nasties and realized that IT DIDN'T WORK because MY KITCHEN SINK IS EVIL.
Not-so convenient handle of the hateable plug of the even more hateable sink:
What kind of messed up sink has a plug with a handle ON THE WRONG SIDE?!? Just mine, because it's punishing me for wanting friends. I HATE YOU, SINK! I HOPE YOU'RE RECYCLED INTO A PRISON TOILET!
So the moral of the story is that I'm not allowed to have any friends because my sink is an evil, friend-hating monstrosity. Or maybe the moral is that I don't know how to do the dishes. Or that I shouldn't even pretend to try to clean up. Whatever. My sink SO hates me.
And P.S. to my friends: I'm not cleaning up for you ever again. You'll just have to deal with it, or else you might find me being attacked by my dishwasher next time.
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