On Sunday, I tried to make Elysha’s last day of summer vacation as lovely as possible by doing as many chores as possible for her.
Before leaving for the lake, I loaded the dishwasher, added soap, and ran the machine. When we returned from the lake, I emptied the machine, putting all the dishes away, thus freeing her from any thought of doing the chore herself.
Except I never pressed the start button on the dishwasher. I added the detergent but never actually commenced the wash cycle.
I did, however, still empty the contents of the dishwasher upon returning from the lake. I placed dirty bowls, cups, mugs, and silverware into cabinets and drawers, failing to realize that any of these items were still clearly and obviously dirty.
A short time later, Elysha found these dirty items in the cabinets and drawers, requiring her to undo my stupidity and thus adding to her burden.
Later that evening, she also discovered that last week, when I had gallantly changed the cat litter for her, I had placed the lid to one of the litter boxes backward, thereby blocking the entrance to the said litter box with the wall, making it inaccessible to the cats.
Thank goodness we have two litter boxes.
I am not always a detail-oriented person.
When Elysha or I attempt to describe how inattentive to detail I can sometimes be, people often think we’re exaggerating. It’s admittedly odd given that I obviously pay enormous attention to detail when doing things like writing novels, performing onstage, planning lessons, driving a car, and more.
I’m perfectly capable of focusing intensely on the minutia, but I’m also the kind of person who can empty a dishwasher filled with dirty dishes without ever noticing.