Where did the maid go?

I intend to write a strongly worded letter to my housekeeper.

You know, that little bitch left literally piles of dirty dishes in my sink. I'm talking about shit from Monday at this point. Stuff is starting to grow on this enormous pile. The corpses of dead mosquito hawks are staring blankly from their foul, watery graves.

It really came to light this morning as I tried to fill the coffee pot with fresh water and couldn't fit the decanter under the faucet.

Not enough clearance.

I mean this is disgusting. Downright intolerable...

Here goes:

Dear Diary...

Yeah, yeah... It seems I foolishly volunteered for this crap when I found myself spending a lot more time around the house than I am accustomed. Unemployment will do that, you know. But between writing papers for grad school, making my rounds job hunting and otherwise finding other things to fill my days, that dish pile got away from me.

Well, no more. Problem solved. After merely an hour and a half of scrubbing, they are now resting, clean, in the dish drainer (and the cabinet... and that other cabinet... and the table... there's a couple of cast iron pans I put back on the stove top...)

And least I now know where everything can be found in this kitchen...