No matter what time of the day or night, or day of the week...there's ALWAYS washing up to do. It's always there, a pile of dirty dishes, mugs, pots & pans, knives, forks & spoons; staring at me forlornly across the kitchen, begging me to put a soapy pad in hand and give them a vigorous going over. And don't get me started on finding the odd mug or plate hidden discretely under the sofa, or that wayward spoon stuck down the back of the bookcase...why can't the apples of my eyes just bring the damn things back into the kitchen!!??!$£???

Sometimes, if I'm in the right mood, it can be quite therapeutic and cathartic to swill away in the hot suds, buffing up the dinner plates and rinsing off the wine glasses...but mostly it's a dirge; a boring, tedious necessity which depresses me no end but which has to be done if I want to eat off something which isn't the table-top

I really do think I need a butler...or maybe a chamber-maid :o)

EDIT: I should point out that these are CLEAN dishes (thanks for the prod, Stephanie!!) - I was looking at them this morning, all shiny and clean and happy, steaming away in the morning light, and the pent up bitterness came flooding out...