So I am kind of, er, relaxed as far as washing dishes goes. I soap ’em, rinse ’em, and if they look clean(ish), they’re good to go! But my new(ish) live-in boyfriend has much higher standards…

He has been known to use an old toothbrush to get at those hard-to-reach spots in a cheese grater.

This is one of his fave products…

…but never on non-stick surfaces!

He also is partial to bleach… hydrogen peroxide… and “ultra-strength” detergents.

Whenever I wash dishes, I’m happy just to let them drip dry in the dish rack. But John likes to wash them with me next to him, as I dry them. With a dish towel. And then put them away! Horrors! 😁

I hadn’t done that since I was a (spoiled) teenager, reluctantly “helping” my mom. Confession: I hated drying dishes so much that I used to tell her, “I’m just going to the bathroom first.” I’d hear the water running in the kitchen, as I stayed in the loo for as long as I could justify it! Then I’d hear her calling out, “I’m piling up!” Finally I’d emerge, zipping over to her side, to save the day! I’d sigh as I faced an inevitable mountain of dishes and pots in the dish rack – and I vowed that, one day, when I lived on my own, I’d just let the darn things drip dry…

…and that’s just what I did… until John moved in with me last September!

But I’ll tell you this. I’ve grown to love the sight of a clean sink, clean dish rack, clean counters – this is my favourite scene, actually:

Thank you, John Boone! Vive la différence!