After dinner on Thanksgiving we were bogged down in heavy dishware. The warm thoughts were exchanged. The thanks were given. The cranberry sauce was passed. It was carnage. When it was over not one guest was spared. They were laying all over the room in various states of tryptophanity. Turning my attention to the mess I cried out for help sure that none would come. After the dinner feast I took it upon myself to assemble a team and clean up. No easy feat considering the body count. Food remnants were piling up, stomachs were expanding and near-empty wine glasses were lying on their sides exsanguinating like fallen Roman soldiers. I was on my own…
Looking toward where the kitchen should be and began to assess; dishes were piled on the counter like trunks of the mighty Redwoods. Bowls of potatoes and stuffing rolled like vast dunes of the Sahara. On the dinner table I saw all the pies and other confections spearing out into the distance like a sea of sugary sweetness. I felt small, very small. Somewhere among the debris there was a sink for washing everything and a refrigerator to put everything away.
I donned my rubber gloves, strapped on my welders goggles, belted on my back mounted soap dispenser and unsheathed my scrub brush. Arching my eyebrow, I said a small prayer and went in…
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