There are certain things husbands just shouldn’t be in charge of.

When I came home from work today I was excited to see the inside rack of my dishwasher out of the dishwasher and propped up against one of the walls.

“Is your Dad fixing the dishwasher?” I asked my recently unemployed homebound husband in a chipper voice.

The thought of the dishwasher (which has been broken and useless for ummm 2 years) working again delighted me more than words can say.

“Open it up,” he replied in a  dooms-dayish way. The tone in his voice brought visions of  huge rats nests and swamp-like water in the belly of the broken machine through my mind.

I shook my head and simply stated, “I’m scared.”

Again, he said (this time a bit annoyed), “Open it up”.

Reluctantly, I reached for the handle and ever so slowly lifted up the lever. As I warily peeked inside I began to giggle, then I laughed. Hard.

Yes, that’s all of our cats food and litter supplies.

In my still broken dishwasher.

No, that’s not where it’s staying but until I find a real place for it all someday on Saturday I will be humming the Sanford and Sons theme song,

Every time I feed the cat.

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