It began innocently enough.
“Are you seriously putting the knives point-up again?” Sarah asked, eyes narrowing like a hawk spotting prey.
Mark didn’t flinch. “Yeah. They get cleaner that way.”
“Cleaner? Or deadlier? You’re one unload away from a kitchen crime scene.”
Mark, armed with misplaced confidence, said, “Technically, water sprays from below—so point-up makes sense.”
A silence fell. The kind that makes the houseplants uncomfortable.
Sarah smiled sweetly — the smile of a woman who knows she’s about to win. “Great. You can do the dishes from now on, then.”
By morning, Mark stood before Mount Dishmore, scrubbing in quiet despair as Sarah sipped her coffee like a victorious general.
“Don’t forget,” she said. “Knives point-up, right?”
Moral of the story: No one ever wins the dishwasher war. But some people get to enjoy clean knives and a clean conscience.
Punfully Yours,
The Laugh Loft