- Acknowledge there is a problem and that problem is you. Sit on the kitchen floor with the scent of some sort of awful mold wafting over you from the sink and cry, preferably while staring at the overhead track lights. Cry fresh tears as one of the bulbs flickers and dies.
- Get up and put on pants for once, you lazy bastard. Go to the bathroom and stand around wondering for a moment what you intended to do once you got there. Mash an ant crawling on the basin, flick another ant into a spider web. Remember why you're in the bathroom.
- Run a tub full of hot water. Contemplate how nice it would be to listen to Evanescence and cut yourself.
- Realize you're not 14-year-old emo girl. Cry about that.
- Start putting soiled dishes in the tub. Try not think they're some sort of three-dimensional avatar of your hideously soiled mental state.
- Remember you should probably wear rubber gloves while moving dishes from sink to tub so things don't start growing on you, enter your pores and eat your heart or something.
- Remember you don't really give a shit and audibly say, "fuck the gloves."
- Keep moving dishes. Become vaguely unfocused like you did that time in the broom closet with Truffles The Gropy Party Clown, AKA Uncle Dickie.
- Stop for beer.
- Finish moving dishes. Take no time whatsoever to contemplate what that green fuzzy shit on the Corning Ware might have been in a previous life.
- Let the dishes soak for a while.
- Go away and tweet stuff like, "What no one foresaw was the great unveiling of cats' ulterior motivations all these years: they really were just fucking with us." Accept that no one thinks that's funny and go back to your fuzzy dishes.
- Clean the sinks in the kitchen carefully, using that bartender's friend stuff. DO NOT TRY AND SNORT IT, IT IS CAUSTIC. Trust me on that.
- Run one side full of hot, soapy water, the other side just plain hot water. Run to the fridge upon remembering you still have vodka.
- Begin with the least soiled stuff. If you're lucky that's cups and glasses, maybe flatware. Have a bristly thingamajig (your wife's toothbrush will do) to get into the picky spots, where death resides.*
- Avoid thinking there's nothing bristly enough to truly cleanse your own soiled soul.
- Tackle plates and bowls. Tackling them will likely destroy a number of them, reducing your workload.
- Pick plate shards out of your skin.
- Handle cooking stuff next. Be sure to be thorough, but also remember this stuff gets hot when you use it on the stove top or in the oven, so that'll probably kill any deadly botulinium or clostridium you've missed.
- Hours later, as you're methodically sliding the bristles of your wife's toothbrush through the tines of a fork, realize you're actually done.
- Survey the sparkling, newly clean dishes arrayed in the drainer and on bath towels on every counter surface in the kitchen. Drink more vodka and audibly say, "fuck putting this up."
- In the morning just grab shit and start using it, beginning the cycle all over again.
- Be sure to swap one of the kids' brushes with your wife's and throw your wife's out. "I accidentally knocked it into the toilet" is a pretty good excuse and not that far from the truth.
- Vodka is actually a great cleaner of especially burned-in matter (some hibachi chefs use it to clean the cooking area) but who the hell wastes sweet, sweet vodka like that? Other than hibachi chefs?
- If you find bones, just tell yourself they were part of a chicken or something, and not a rat that fell into the piled dishes and died from immediate toxic shock.
- Generally speaking, ALWAYS have paper plates and plastic picnic knives, forks and spoons around to excuse not getting around to the actual dishes themselves.
THINGS YOU WILL NEED:
- Vodka.
- Beer.
- Possibly an iPhone or iPod with a large selection of music so you can take yourself far, far away from the horrors before you.
*I would never actually use my wife's toothbrush for this because I value my life.
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Don't be a jackass.