Just call me Lightnin'

This morning Monica asked me if I would empty the dishwasher while she took a shower. I went to work, only to notice there were a couple of obstacles in the way.

Firstly, the dog Sophie (Monica pointed out that I had been misspelling the dog's name all this time) was in the kitchen. She likes to jump, and her mouth is not extremely sanitary, so I assumed that as soon as I opened the dishwasher she might possibly go gonzo on me and start licking plates or something. She had to go outside. But I don't touch the dog.

"Zachary? Come here! The dog needs to go outside!"

So Zach took the dog out, and I opened the dishwasher. Little Miss Essie's eyes got big and over she scurried to "assist." However, I knew she liked to wash her hands in Sophie's mouth, so I had apprehensions about her unloading clean dishes.

"Go wash your hands first."

I had doubts about how proficient she is at washing hands, and I didn't feel like standing over for 5 minutes, so I sprang into action, trying to get as much done as possible before her return. Plates don't fly like that even in Kung Fu movies. At one point I bounced a plate off of one foot into the cabinet, while juggling 6 cups, tossing them one by one into their places. I did several cartwheels from one end of the kitchen to the other.

And then I heard her telling her brother, "Nooo! Dondt dew that!", and I knew she would not be "assisting" anytime soon. Disaster had once again been averted, and I prepared to receive my wife's congratulations on a job well done.