Kitchen Duty

I hate doing the dishes.  Every single night, I find myself in front of the kitchen sink with my hands plunged into soapy water.  Being raised in a traditional southern home, I have grown use to our nightly routine.  First, my mom and I cook supper.  Second, we serve my dad and brothers and ourselves last.  Third, after everyone is finished eating, we pick up all of the plates, cups, and silverware and store the leftovers.  After that, my brothers and my dad proceed to the living room to lie on the couch and watch TV while my mom and I hit the kitchen sink to knock out the dishes.  I have always envied how my brothers got to just lounge about after supper, not having to worry about the chore of cleaning up.  I can understand cleaning up after a toddler or someone who is incapable of doing so, but they are grown men and I am positive that they are able to rinse their plates and slip them into the dishwasher.  It really is that simple; I promise.  It takes a total of maybe five seconds to do.  If I can go outside and do “men’s work” like cutting grass and chopping firewood, then they should be able to do “women’s work” and put up their own dishes.