The griddle of our discontent

The above griddle resides in my house. When I took this picture, it had been on the counter for three days. It made its latest first appearance last Saturday when my husband used it to make pancakes. Had I indulged in pancakes made on this griddle, I would have happily and gratefully cleaned the griddle and returned it to its home under the kitchen island. But I don’t eat pancakes. Ever. So why should I clean up after a meal I didn’t cook or eat? So I didn’t clean it. And neither did anyone else. It was moved from the top of the island to a spot next to the sink then back to the island again, but never cleaned.

The griddle was used again on Monday, when my son decided he wanted to make a grilled cheese sandwich. He wiped it down before he used it, but that doesn’t really count as cleaning, does it? Furthermore, after he made his grilled cheese sandwich, he left the griddle messier than when he found it, and he left it right where it’s mostly been since Saturday–in the center of the island in the middle of the kitchen.

Did I clean it and put it away?

No. Not right away.

Did I ask my son to clean it and put it back where it belonged?

No. I shouldn’t have to.

Nor should I had to have asked my husband to clean it on Saturday morning after making pancakes that I didn’t eat.

Because I’m not a maid.

And they all should know better than to leave that griddle out assuming I’m going to clean it.

So instead of cleaning the thing and putting it away,

it served as a reminder every time I passed the kitchen how often what I do is taken for granted.

But it only served as a reminder for me,

because no one else cares that there’s a big, dirty griddle sitting on the counter.

Just as no one else but me knows how much it bothers me.

It’s clean and put away where it belongs now.

I finally broke down and did it myself.

I suppose I could tell my family how having to clean a griddle I never use makes me feel taken for granted.

But I know hearing those words spoken aloud would sound incredibly petty and ridiculous.

Almost as petty and ridiculous as being mad about a griddle for three days.

What’s your giant fork and spoon?

« « Previous Post: Happy Independence Day! | Next Post: Good books » »

7 Responses to “The griddle of our discontent”

  1. Jim H July 5, 2012 at 8:12 pm #

    perfect timing for this! Just this morning I posted a quote “don’t stumble over something behind you” It sounds impossible, but I do it all the time – thanks for the reinforcement!

    Loved the clip, too.

  2. James Williams July 5, 2012 at 9:28 pm #

    I hope they read your blog…

  3. okiewife July 6, 2012 at 8:42 am #

    The only way to get rid of anything in this house is wait til everyone else is gone, then go quietly to the dumpster with it. and only take one thing at a time. Leave no big glaring empty spot. Just the way it is here. Sneaky aren’t I?

  4. Ricky Anderson July 6, 2012 at 8:57 am #

    You could leave hints on sticky notes around the house.

    They would be the Griddle Riddles.

  5. Audra Krell July 6, 2012 at 6:10 pm #

    I have this exact griddle and this exact problem. No one cleans it! There is something repelling about this griddle. Finally my husband will usually break, which makes me feel bad, because sometimes I’m the one who uses it and then doesn’t clean it. But I’m cooking for the fam, so why shouldn’t they do the dishes!? LOL Great post.

  6. SimplyDarlene July 11, 2012 at 11:00 am #

    Oh my word! I forgot how much I thoroughly enjoyed that show. That clip was new to me… musta been after we tossed the TV.

    The guy always forgets.

    Proverbs 21:9
    New King James Version (NKJV)
    “Better to dwell in a corner of a housetop,
    than in a house shared with a contentious woman.”

  7. Helen July 11, 2012 at 12:09 pm #

    It used to be laundry folding. See, the very first question Bob asked me after I said “Yes” to his marriage proposal was if I could cook. That didn’t set well with me (Yep, right off the bat!), so I told him my cooking skills will equal is laundry skills. He was actually okay with that. The sarcasm went right over his head. All he knew was that he could barely boil a hot dog, and would actually rather microwave it to save on the hassle. So, we began our marriage with him doing laundry and me cooking. BUT, I always did the dishes, cleaned the kitchen, and put everything away. He on the other hand, left the laundry piled up in the dining room. I’d leave it there. Mom would come over and offer to fold it, and I wouldn’t let her, because I wanted Bob to figure out that folding the laundry is part of DOING the laundry. Afterall, I did dishes, and that wasn’t part of the agreement! (Please keep in mind that I was working full time at the time, and considered adding folding laundry to my responsibilities to be completely beyond the pail…)
    How did it resolve itself? When mom was coming to stay with us after her first illness, we BOTH folded and put away. (How many years was the laundry in the dining room without my Bob noticing… Well, sometimes, when we were expecting company, we’d give it a mini vacation in a spare room which later became mom’s room…) I didn’t want the visiting nurses to think our home was ill suited for mom. Well, the visiting occupational therapist wanted mom to practice sorting and folding laundry during her visits, so that kind of evolved into mom’s thing.. Later when mom could stand, the occupational therapist had her doing dishes. Momma ended up saving the day by continuing this while she lived with us for years, up until the time she became bed ridden and couldn’t. By then I was home, and considered myself blessed that Bob still took the heat off of me some by going downstairs and putting a load in the machine many times. (Yes, I also did laundry at that time, but Bob was more than gracious about doing it when I hadn’t got to it…)
    I’m sending out resumes again this year. I may have to break down and ASK Bob to fold laundry after a while…
    My point? I’ve been there.

Leave a Reply:

Gravatar Image

XHTML: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>