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Very bad chain of events today. It really started last night cleaning up after pork chops. So, today I am so busy visiting people that I have to rush home to inhale a tuna sandwich and walk Jazzi before rushing off for more visiting and choir rehearsal. Hadn't unloaded the dishwasher so reached in and grabbed my tuna mixing bowl. Reached in again for spoons and what-have-you. Mixed up my tuna really fast. It's a little wet because my new "no hands" can opener takes the lid completely off and then I drop that on the floor for Jazzi to lick. Meaning, I forget to hold the lid to the can to drain the tuna. I substituted the cone of my orange juice squeezer. It was a poor substitute.

So, I sat down to eat and first thought was Gee, this tuna doesn't taste so good, I guess it's too wet. Or, thinks me, maybe I'm just having bad luck, what with the gruesome frozen hamburger patties the other night. So, I eat it, what else are ya gonna do? Jazzi always has fun licking the tuna can and bowls and plates. I know, that's totally uncouth, but whacha gonna do?

So, I walk and visit and play piano and come home. Mike is home first and can't wait for dinner (leftovers) so he is eating the leftover tuna. While the more substantial leftovers are heating in the oven I go to unload the dishwasher. Sometimes I count each piece, just to make me feel good about hard I work. WOW, 66 pieces of silverware and dishes, that represents a whole bunch of elbow grease, I boast to myself.

As I was putting a glass away I noticed that it looked smudged. Hmm. I chalked it up to being the glass in the corner of the rack, far removed from a good wet spray. Still, a doubt lingered. So, I picked up a glass bowl next and there were little specks of broccoli hanging around. Uh-oh. I really can't stand it when I put away almost a whole load of dirty dishes. As I go to retrieve them -- and how can I remember exactly HOW MANY plates I stacked or how many forks, so you have to go deep into the piles to play it safe -- well, a VERY BAD thought struck me.

Yes, I had made my tuna in a dirty bowl with dirty spoons because I had never run the load, thinking I could fit in a couple more saucers. Not just ordinary people dirty, but dog-germ-infested dirty. You might be asking, How could you not know, after unloading 53 pieces of dishware, that you were unloading dirties? Well, that is so easy. Because I am a rinser. I rinse the dishes so well they almost look whistle clean going into the racks. I've read many times how the manufacturers and experts tell you, DO NOT RINSE, be late for your own wedding, but DO NOT RINSE the dishes going into the dishwasher. I ignore it. But I don't rinse with soap too much, just a little if the rag is feeling weighed down with grease. Still. Still, this rinsing fetish is no substitute for really washed dishes, hence my heart five fire alarm attack . . . whatever am I trying to say?

I yelped, MIKE!, I made the tuna in a dirty bowl!!! At first it hadn't dawned on me that it was a Jazzi-tongued bowl, but Mike instantly said, I thought the tuna tasted funny, was it a bowl Jazzi licked? I looked stunned. While living on borrowed time I racked my brains to remember if it was indeed a Jazzi-licked bowl. Maybe I lucked out, knowing all the while, Fat Chance. So I went over the meal prep from last night step by step. Then I knew, I had stirred together the pork chop topping ketchup and brown sugar in that bowl and without a doubt Jazzi cleaned it up for me. Oh, man, we are doomer than doomed. Woe is me, I am undone. I asked Mike, Should I throw out the rest of the tuna? He said, Yes.

Not only that, but now I don't have room in the dishwasher for today's dirty dishes, you know, 'cause I had to put any questionable dishes in with all the true dirty ones when I reloaded. And if you set a dirty knife on a clean one, what then?, then they all have to go in and be washed, right? So, that about filled up all the empty space I was saving for today's dishes. Really, why don't I just run the load every night, even if it's one coffee mug? Mike always told me to run the dishwasher every night, full or no, and I thought, Wicked waste. Well, see the messes I get myself into?

And my brother-in-law, when he once observed the "make-my-dinner-reappear" site of Jazzi standing in the roasting pan on the floor, where once had stood (lain) a turkey, said, Remind me never to eat at your house again.

Well, I do believe this little post will single-handedly, in one fell swoop, end my blogging career. Nice knowing you. And I guess my future dinner guests will all walk in on four legs.

I really did have a nice day until the shocking realization I now have some dread doggie rooted disease which may very well quell my fountain of life. Right now. Tonight. I hope I die peacefully in my sleep. Mike, too. Never mind blogs and dinner guests. If the tuna hadn't tasted so peculiar, I might have hope. But it did and I don't.

And to think my sinus problems have been under control with the turkey basting washing method. Someone please tell Dr. Lanza I thank him. And to think I'm going to miss the Olympics, which I had so looked forward to. But my last day was a good one, I squeezed two glasses of tangelo juice, I had a sweet visit at my childhood home, how fitting, had a nice visit with neighbors of my childhood home and darling little girls. I snapped plastic beads together to make a necklace for them. Laura, Baby Claire said to tell you hello. Hello from Baby Claire. It's so nice that yesterday I reminisced about Michigan lake water lapping on the seawall. Oh yes, even DTD stopped by last night. Good-bye, Cruel World. Farewell, Fair Friends. Someone take Jazzi for us, Boo Hoo, sweet ketchupy dog. Such a crying shame.

KEM, The Mortal, mortalizing (one last made-up word) sooner than expected