The other day Ellen told me a life lesson that a friend told her (and I know I am paraphrasing here, since my porous memory has become even more so).
Her friend said that a mother should know that if she waits long enough eventually everyone in the family will just eat cereal. Something I am embarrassed to admit has some resonance in our current empty nest existence. Though I hasten to add Ellen has become one of the truly remarkable chefs in my experience (I am, in this as in many ways, lucky), while I remain convinced that if I was supposed to cook on a regular basis God would not have caused microwaves to exist.
It occurred to me that there are many other aspects of our life that fit this pattern, though there are many responsibilities that end up being sort of assigned to one spousal member or the other. For example, trash being taken out to the trash cans in the garage and from there to the street is mostly mine.
Our biggest joint responsibility is emptying the dishwasher. We both wait to see if the sounds of the dishwasher elf occurs when we know the dishwasher is ‘clean’. One of the great everyday pleasures is hearing the sound of plates and glassware being put away and/or opening the dishwasher and finding it empty.
It is a comment on the continuing lack of gender equality (I am working on this) (really) that the dishwasher elf, at least in our house, is more likely to be a she and that when it is a he, the elf gets extra credit when in fact none is deserved. There is the additional challenge when I serve in that role, that there almost always is some odd-shaped bowl or plastic container that for the life of me I cannot figure out where it should go. Thus these are left on the shelf for expert analysis or put away in some creative destination. Ellen has noted that from time to time when she is looking for something that seems to be missing she is amazed at my creative shelving capabilities.
It is nice to know that even after 35 years I still retain some creative and unexpected capabilities.