So I talked about some of the weird things that have been going on around here, and it just gets weirder, dear reader. Like… I honestly do not believe in ghosts, nor do I honestly believe that there’s someone living in my crawlspace — but if it turns out that we are being haunted or that there is someone living in my crawlspace, it would explain a lot. Seriously. Like, y’all don’t even know. The latest in weird occurrences that have been going on around here is dirty dishes being put away.
Doug and I have been married for eight years. We’ve lived together for nine. Or thereabouts. Could be nine and ten. I forget. Either way, it’s been a while since we started co-habituating. In all that time, neither of us has been in the habit of putting dirty dishes away. I’m almost sure that it’s not me and I’ll tell you why: My stepdad was an abusive fuck and one of the things he beat the crap out of us for was putting a dirty dish away. Not only would he beat us silly, but we would then have to wash — by hand — every single dish in the house. Like, we had to pull all of the dishes out of the cupboard and wash them, dry them, and put them away. That’s after getting a beating. — Imagine, if you will, dear reader, being an eleven year old kid. You’re sitting around, watching television, and this absolute unit of a person comes screaming in your face for half an hour because there’s a spot on a plate. You and your siblings have to stand in the kitchen and endure the screaming about hygiene until someone “confesses” to putting away the dirty dish. Everyone gets slapped while this is happening, whipped with a belt when it’s over and then you and whoever “confessed” has to pull out every dish in the house and wash them by hand. You, because you’re the oldest and whoever confessed as punishment. There were five kids in our family. We had a lot of dishes. And a dish didn’t even have to be dirty, water stains counted as dirty. — That kind of shit stays with a person. Even though I don’t live in the past, I tend to check dishes before I put them away. So I’m 99% sure that it’s not me who is putting away dirty dishes. Like could I possibly take a not quite clean dish from the dishwasher and put it away when I’m not feeling well? Yeah, it could happen. As they say nowadays, it’s a greater than zero chance.
As for Doug, he doesn’t really do the dishes unless I specifically ask him to — and I rarely do. Mostly for this reason:
He kinda sorta knows where most things go, but since I usually do the dishes, I generally have to search for things whenever Doug puts the dishes away. As Opal from the above comic is, I’m kinda picky about where my things go. Organized chaos and all that. I asked him if he had been putting dishes away, and he said that he had not. Like the previous post, I believe him. He has no reason to suddenly, randomly put things away. Especially dirty dishes.
So yeah, that’s the latest and greatest thing that’s been going on. And it started happening about… a month ago I want to say? Like a cup and a bowl here, some silverware there… this morning it was a plate. It’s just… weird. I mean if it had just been once I would have put it down to a fluke and forgotten about it, but it keeps happening, and knowing my aversion to, well, dirty dishes with clean dishes, and Doug’s aversion to housekeeping — that just makes it even more strange. Again, I honestly and truly do not believe that we’re being haunted, nor do I think that someone is living in my crawlspace. For one thing, the dogs would totally bark at anything/anyone that goes bump in the night. So if anyone was creeping around in our house, the dogs would lose their shit. Occam’s razor says it’s probably me, in a brain fog, just not paying attention. The only reason why I’m 99% sure it’s not me — other than the reason mentioned above — is that the dirty spoons that were put away were not nested, and if there’s one thing I cannot stand, it’s unnested spoons. Just thinking about it and typing it down makes my eye twitch. I can’t just throw silverware in the drawer, it’s got to be stacked neatly. I don’t know why. So… yeah… It remains a mystery. Not an exciting mystery to be sure, but one nonetheless.