I'm sure the other hens out there can relate to this one.
Trying to get hubby to do dishes is just this side of impossible. I love him dearly, but I think I'd have to hog tie him and drag him into the kitchen, after detonating a bomb in his computer to get him to do dishes. Essentially, threaten some kind of misery... it's *so* ironic in that odd sense of the Alanis Morrisset song.
Before we got hitched, I had to chase him out of the kitchen if I wanted to do dishes.
Ah well, I didn't marry him because he did dishes. And hey, he does do laundry, didn't touch that before we got married... so I guess it's a trade off.
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