All Washed Up

Man, I had a pretty busy weekend the other week. And by busy, I mean I was inundated with chores that had to do with washing stuff. Not talking about washing clothes, as my wife really doesn’t like me messing with the laundry.

I get out of that because the few times when I have done the laundry, I’ve screwed it up so bad that my wife doesn’t trust me with her clothing. I won’t admit I did that on purpose, but my dad once told me that if I want to get out of doing something, I should mess it up so bad that I’m never asked to do it again. In my house, that only works for laundry and cooking.

No, my weekend started with me washing our dog Buddy. I enjoy doing that despite our bathroom looking like a water buffalo exploded in there. My next washing chore was much more difficult — washing my mom’s and my wife’s cars. That took me nearly an entire afternoon, but only because it was hot and my “As Seen On TV” expanding water hose wasn’t working right.

I then had to wash down our barbecue grill in anticipation of Labor Day, and while I was at it decided to wash down the back patio. I was totally exhausted after all that and vowed that I wasn’t going to wash another thing for the rest of the month. My wife reminded me that we had to help out with our daughter’s homecoming dance that night. As parents of a senior, we had to help with the Project Grad fundraiser by working the food concession stand.

My wife and I were assigned to make poke bowls and kalua pig plates in the kitchen of the school cafeteria. I was fine with that and actually had a system in place. We slaved for three hours, and you would not believe the amount of poke bowls and kalua pig that these kids can consume. By the end of the evening, I was completely exhausted. I headed to the exit to go home.

That’s when I was told we were also responsible for cleaning up the cafeteria kitchen. There were nearly a dozen of those huge aluminum warming trays and it was my job to wash them. I rolled up my sleeves and dove right in. I cursed under my breath but then shut up just in case the spirit of the Leilehua high school cafeteria lady, Mrs. Pereira, was watching over me like the old days.

rnagasawa@midweek.com

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