Thank You for Being De-Friend

So what is it about FaceBook that has turned the country into a bunch of sixth-grade girls?

There are so many hurt feelings about who’s “friended” and “defriended” that I sometimes have flashbacks to Mayo Elementary, circa 1976.

Recently The Husband and I discovered we were both defriended by someone we’d gone to camp with 30 years ago, solely for the reason that we are both atheists and he’s a Christian.

Now I know I don’t follow the Christian theology, but isn’t that a very un-Christlike attitude?

My take on it is that real friends don’t lose touch after 30 years to begin with.

At least he wasn’t one of my FarmVille neighbors. That would have been really hurtful.

The Dish Experiment, Day Five

So notice the clean dishes in the dish rack. Again, washed by the owner's wife. What year is this again?

Taking a stand for administrative assistants everywhere.

The Dish Experiment, Day Four

Still haven't backed down, but apparently these dishes sat over the weekend. Some of the dishes left in the sink had been washed, but by the owner's WIFE. Seriously? Is it 1950?

The Dish Experiment, Day Three

Day Three of not washing. I know the photo is bad, but I'm still trying out my smart phone. Smart Phone = Dumb User.

The fork, mug and glass are still there, with the addition of a couple of bowls the owner left. We'll see who caves first.

The Dish Experiment, Day Two

So Kathy with a K and I made it through our first day of NOT washing dishes.

It doesn't look too bad, but keep in mind that she and I and the owner's brother were the only ones who ate in. And yes, all the dirty dishes and utensils belong to him.

The Dish Experiment, Day One

It is a truth universally acknowledged that blogging about one's job is career suicide. However, I have reached my breaking point about one particular issue at my workplace:

The dirty dishes.

I work in a small office, only seven employees. One might assume that because we are all adults, all employees can be responsible for their dirty dishes. This is not the case. Every day, either I or Kathy with a K wash a stack of dishes that were dirtied by the other employees. We started doing this as a favor, but because we set this precedent, we are now expected to do this. Every day. Even when we ourselves have not used any dishes. Even when we are both absent from the office.

So beginning today, we have agreed that neither of us will succumb to the power of the stack of dirty dishes and refuse to wash a dish that we did not personally soil.

We ain't their bitches.

More Superpowers

After the realization that I have the superpower that I can make myself become invisible, I almost immediately found that I can see and hear things that must be in a fourth dimension.

For years I've thought that all my nagging ("put that away," "watch out for ___," etc.) was because that is what kids and moms do. But after discovering I could become invisible, it opened my mind to the possibility of superpowers and it explains so much.

For example:
I am the only one who can see and hear the dog when she is panting like she's just finished a marathon and pacing in front of her water dish, to have a refill.
I am the only one who can see and hear the dog when she is pacing in front of the back door, crossing her legs and whining to be let out.
I am the only one who can see and hear the cat when she is howling next to her food dish, because it is empty.

The other morning, The Big One and I were in the girls' bathroom, and she was brushing her teeth. There was a ginormous wad of dog hair in the sink. IN THE BATHROOM SINK. The only explanation I have for this was that the dog was dying of thirst, so she went into the bathroom, turned on the sink and got herself a drink. I told The Big One, "Ewwww...clean that up." She said, "Clean what up?" This was not a few hairs, it was the size of a tarantula.

This superpower is not just related to animals. It also explains why no one but me sees the dirty dishes left on the floor in the den, the badminton racket left on the hood of my car, and the stapler in The Little One's bed.

I really must harness these powers for the greater good. At the least, I could get my house clean.

"With great power comes great responsibility."