The Dish

I have now lived in a shared house for a fair slice of my life, and I know that people approach certain contentious issues with different cultural backgrounds.

For example, in the context of dishes, what constitutes "clean" and what constitutes grounds for an irate note? What period of time seperates "I'll do them in a minute?" from a more defiant, edgy artistic message?

Then there's the whole proprietary-dish debate. In Regent Street, we knew that some people are protective of mugs. The mug with Odin on it is mine, the one with Tigger belongs to Emmathy, and I have no doubt that by now the Goose mug is somewhere in either Boston or Greenville, SC. It's not important, or even something you can describe, but there are proprieties. In the month I have lived here, Odin has spent a great deal of his time AWOL.

When you get right down to it, who is more worthy of admiration: Batman,for his dilligence, or Superman, for his idealism?

I'm being pretty placid about the whole afffair because this is the first time that I have ever lived with someone with noticably lower dish-standard than myself and, as Jesus said, people in bamboo houses shouldn't throw pandas. However, that has not saved me from having the awkward conversation where someone attempts to justify themselves to you when all you really want to do is drink a beer and watch Scrubs for two hours.

When it all seems a little too much, you have to dig deep down and remember what it is that bought you thogether in the first place.

Also, political snap of the day: Vampires wouldn't surround themselves with crosses.