Ode to Washing Dishes

Oh, dishes.
You are in my nightmares.
Everytime I wash you, I have to do it again.
There is always a plate in my stink.
My hands are dry.

(my assistant hates when i was dishes, too. freaks him out!)

I hate you.
I hate the way stuff sticks to you.
I hate the way I have to soak you for days until I can scrub gunk off.
Sponge after sponge, dish after dish.

You suck
you suck
you suck.

I lied. Maybe all I want for Christmas is a new dishwasher. Please?

Love,
the globetrotting gamine