Dishin' to the Oldies

Jake and I have an agreement about the dishes. We keep mental track on whose turn it is next, and we don't bug each other about when we'll get to that turn. And if anyone is going to take an extra turn, it's going to be Jake, after which I will be grateful and promise to be more diligent about taking my turn (yeah, right). More likely I will try to not complain when I clean the kitchen and the bathroom twice a month (sometimes it's more, and don't worry, if I know you're coming over, I ALWAYS clean up the bathroom, or at least sanitize the critical areas). Yesterday, as I was slaving over a hot sink of two day old contributions, I realized that washing dishes is a lot like an exercise program. In fact, I would WATCH that exercise program, because I need the motivation. Hawaii has been hitting some hot temperatures over the last few days, a fact only compounded by the poor air circulation in my kitchen. Let's say I blame that, the vog, and the loco mocos for 14 people for a sweat that lasted until late that evening. Anyway, I was doing the dishes at my house before I got started on dinner (with lots of help), and I just kept thinking, "I just can't wash one more dish! I can't do it!" And then I would answer myself with "Just one more, come on, you can do it!" It was an exercise in endurance and I had to push through. Now, if Tony Horton was splitting up my cleaning duties into 30 second sprints, and then rotated them to repeat, I know I would have thought "30 seconds? I can do anything for thirty seconds. Bring it." And the house would be a whole lot cleaner than it is right now.