Posted by Sari
I am sure that most of you know by now that I hate doing dishes. Not just dislike, hate. Just few weeks back I did a careful search for the ugliest glazed earthenware plate we had and smashed to the floor just to let out some of my dishwashing rage.
Few weeks back I was also feeling very tired and hopeless and probably had PMS, so my hormones deciced to do a full days worth of crying first to Jukka’s poor befuddled oncologist (Tuomo, number three), then to my parents and by the way of rounding up the day I drafted my sister as the audience in the evening. And just to make my despair more dramatically coherent I ended up telling my parents how washing dishes has come to symbolise this and that and then they offered to buy me a dishwasher.
Which was nice. Was more than nice. Was wonderful. And I did not have the strength fo character to say thanks but no thanks. So now I have a dishwasher and a dilemma. What to do next time I feel like a shoulder to cry on? Being cheered up by household appliances is very nice, but, you know, I am supposed to be all grown up an all…
The jinxing bit refers to the fact that if you confidently predict that delivery guys are bringing your delivery today like Jukka did in Finnish in the last post, it usually means that mr. Murphy steps into the picture. Case in point: I just had a call from our Mr. delivery guy who was delivering our dishwasher to wrong adress, and not even in the same city… I predict it will take some time for him to get here.
Eating Muffins 