Dirty Martinis & Dishes

Couldn't. Just could not. Not one more minute. My house is chaos, and I couldn't stand it for one more minute. So I whipped up a 3-olive dirty martini (couldn't find the cocktail shaker) using up the last of the Juniper Green Organic Gin left by Shawnee and Tryphena at our housewarming party in February (how it lasted so long, I do not know), I put on a mix of Reverend Horton Heat (leading with "It's Martini Time") at ear-bleed volume , and I rolled up my proverbial sleeves (metaphorically only; today I sartorially favored short-sleeves in celebration of a late Indian-summer day), and I sudsed up. Every, and I mean every, dish in our house is dirty, and I needed some fortification for the task. Who says noon is too early for drinks? It's happy hour somewhere, right?

After I finished the freakin' mound of dishes in the kitchen, and gathered up all the dishes stashed and abandoned in corners around the house and washed them, I made another martini (Bombay Sapphire) and tackled the kitchen table you see above. Organized, filed, recycled, or otherwise dealt with everything piled on it or under it on the floor. Then I cleaned the refrigerator. And put new batteries in the clock, which died a week ago. And vacuumed.

So now I'm lit like a motherfucker, but my kitchen, she is clean-like-underpants (you know, like your moms always said to wear, in case you get in a wreck and go to the hospital? too bad if you go commando...)

Tags: dishes, drinking, martini, gin