When I cook, I tend to wash all the food prep dishes, pots, and pans as I go along so that after we eat, there are just plates, our utensils, any serving dishes, and glasses left to wash. My mother SAID she did this, too, and I suppose she did. However, my sister and I also figured out that when it was Debby’s turn or mine to do the dishes after dinner, That Old Woman NEVER washed up as she went along. Here you see proof of how she turned me into a scullery maid at a tender age.
Sort of related, my mother, like me, had a keen sense of smell, and one time she vowed that she could smell a dead mouse in the kitchen. She took everything out of all the cabinets, searched behind every appliance, and continued to complain even though my father swore he couldn’t smell a thing.
See that amber glass pitcher to my left in the photo? Mother took it out one night to use it for tea and found a tiny mouse skeleton in it. “SEE?!?” she demanded of my father, her victory complete.
Then she threw the pitcher away, thank goodness.