A picture of the dishwasher being comforted that I took to show everyone on Twitter. Please note how nice and unshrunken the comforter looks. That’s all me, people.
“Well,” I explained, “it has to heat up to wash the dishes properly, right? And I figured it would help save energy if I insulated it so it could get hot faster. And then our dishes would be cleaner. I’m always thinking.” Victor stared at me unblinkingly, with his arms crossed, and after about ten seconds I cracked and admitted that I may have used laundry detergent in the dishwasher, because I couldn’t think of why else the Tide would be out. Then he sighed and shook his head at me. “You’d make a terrible secret agent. Honestly, you are the worst liar ever. But no worries, because I put the laundry detergent out on the counter after you started the dishwasher just to remind myself to buy more.”
“SO THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT,” I shouted, and Victor said, “What? How is this possibly my fault?” But I yelled, “J’ACCUSE!” and stormed off before he could say anything else, because it’s a refreshing change when Victor fucks something up for once, and I wanted to go and appreciate the moment.
I’d venture that Victor and I fight about the state of the house more than anything else, which is really saying something, because Victor and I have had weeklong arguments about whether Franken Berry is a girl (he’s not) and which one of the Chipmunks is most likely to die first (it’s Alvin, probably from an overdose). But arguing about the house is the most common one. In fact, here is a typical argument Victor and I had soon after I decided to quit my job in HR and try to be a full-time writer:
VICTOR: This house is a fucking wreck.
ME: This house is a “creative haven.”
VICTOR: No. It’s just a wreck.
ME: Well, I don’t know why you’re telling me about it. It’s not my job to clean the house.
VICTOR: Yeah, actually, it is. Remember? You were going to quit your job and work on your book? And clean the house. And do the errands. That was the deal, remember?
ME: Not really. That doesn’t sound like a deal I’d make.
VICTOR: “I’m going to be the best housewife EVER. I’ll just write and clean and cook.” Sound familiar?
ME: Fuzzy. I was probably drunk when I said all that.
VICTOR: “FREE BLOW JOBS FOR EVERYBODY!”
ME: Oh. That does sound like something I’d say. Are you mad about the blow jobs?
VICTOR: No. I’m mad about the fact that we both work at home and that this home is a fucking wreck.
ME: It’s not that bad. You’re overreacting because you’re kind of an anal freak.
VICTOR: You are using a Frisbee as a plate.
ME: What? I’m not using a— Oh, hang on, this is a Frisbee. Weird.
VICTOR: [glare]
ME: Dude, calm down. I’ll wash it afterward. It’s probably dishwasher-safe.
VICTOR: It’s not about whether the Frisbee is dishwasher-safe. It’s about the fact that you’re using a fucking Frisbee to eat on because there are no clean plates.
ME: There are totally clean plates. I just saw this on the counter and grabbed it. Technically it’s a kick-ass plate. It even has a lip on it so you don’t spill anything.
VICTOR: How does this not bother you?!
ME: IT TOTALLY BOTHERS ME. I can’t believe I ever agreed to clean the house in exchange for quitting my job. I can’t believe you’d even think that would work. If anything you should have known better when you made that deal. This is all sort of your fault.
VICTOR: I’m going to strangle you.
ME: And I’m going to replace all our plates with Frisbees. Because I’m a motherfuckin’ visionary.
VICTOR: I’m being totally serious here.
ME: SO AM I. THESE FRISBEE PLATES ARE AWESOME. Besides, I don’t have time to clean, because I’m busy doing important social media stuff.
VICTOR: Really. So what did you accomplish today?
ME: A lot. Social media maven . . . stuff.
VICTOR: No. What exactly did you do today? Quantify it for me.
ME: It’s not quantifiable. There aren’t even metrics for the shit I do.
VICTOR: Try.
ME: Um . . . I drew this cartoon about Hitler?
VICTOR: That’s . . . not even remotely funny.
ME: Dude, it’s totally funny. You know? Because people always say, “They only hate me because they’re jealous.” But then it’s Hitler, and everyone really does hate him and isn’t jealous at all?
VICTOR: Not funny.
ME: I think I just need drawing lessons. It took me, like, two hours just to work out how to put a scarf on a stick figure. And that’s why I didn’t have time to clean all the soup I spilled in the microwave. By the way, don’t look in the microwave.
VICTOR: I’m going to lie down until the urge to kill you passes.