I Don’t Know Who Needs To Read This, But Do Your F**cking Dishes

When you’re 18 and have a college roommate, you hope they’re cool. When you’re 45 and can’t afford to live alone (thank you, gig economy), you just hope the roommate you found on Craigslist doesn’t watch Fox News. In both scenarios, you wish Todd would get off the couch and do his fucking dishes. 

Every home has a Todd. Your Todd might be a roommate, or a spouse, or a kid. Maybe your Todd is the mother-in-law who moved in after your kid was born, then never left. If you look around your household and don’t see a Todd, that means you’re the Todd. 

Every Todd has one thing in common: an aversion to soap and silverware. You want to have compassion for your Todd, you really do. But if that oatmeal-encrusted bowl sits in the sink for one more day, you are going to lose your mind. 

Okay, it’s time for this Gleek to drop a little M. Night Shyamalan-esque twist. I realize I’m acting all holier-than-Todd, with all this dirty-dish shaming. But I should make a confession… 

I’m the Todd in my household. 

That’s right, I’ve got a sink full of dirty dishes right now. 

The thing is, I’d rather puncture my lung than scrub a mug. One time I left a dirty fork in the sink for three months JUST BECAUSE I COULD. If you were a magical sea octopus-lady who promised to do my dishes for the rest of my life in exchange for my voice, I would not be able to talk right now. 

I’d say I’m allergic to dishes, except I did say that to my (now ex) boyfriend, and I’ve since learned my lesson. “Dirty dish allergies” don’t go over well. Maybe he and I would still be together if a crud-caked Heritage Oval Casserole Dish hadn’t come between us. 

One time, I threw away all my dirty dishes because I couldn’t stand to look at them. Then I had to go to Ikea to buy a new set of dishes before dinner. And you know what? I have no regrets. 

But unfortunately, I can’t afford to throw away my dirty dishes and buy new ones every night. I don’t care how satisfying it feels, it just isn’t feasible. Honestly, there’s only one thing that motivates me to squirt some Dawn on a plate. And it isn’t a desire for cleanliness. It’s shame. 

So if you’re me, or if you live with a Todd like me, please forward them this Gleek with the note “I know what’s in your sink.” Better yet, post this Gleek on their Facebook page. With the same note, obviously. You want to get the most mileage out of your public shaming. 

Within an hour of this Gleek showing up on their social media, I bet you get an “all clean!” text from Todd. Unless you’re the Todd in your household. In which case, do your fucking dishes. 

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