By Robin Garrison Leach
My husband is the Police of Glasses Use. He monitors and reports on the excessive waste of perfectly clean drinking glasses. His tirades bounce off the kitchen walls, hitting anyone within earshot who has a mouth to ingest liquids.
“Why are there three people in this house with one mouth each and seven—no, eight—dirty glasses in the sink? There’s no reason why a person needs to use more than one glass a day. Whose are all these?”
Needless to say, this is a rhetorical question. We turn our deaf ears toward him in mimic concern.
“I want you to look at this glass.” He waves a jelly-jar-shaped glass mug with a chipped handle in the air as his visual aid. “I’ve been using this glass for FIVE DAYS STRAIGHT. Just rinsing it out and using it. Over and over and over.”
His five counting fingers slap against his chest. “And I’m still healthy. Why, I’ll bet I could use this one glass for the rest of my life without a problem.” He cradles the glass like a proud papa.
“Now…there’s an idea….” John’s eyes gleam as he fires threat bullets our way. “Maybe we should assign each person a glass, only one, like kids at a birthday party.
It’ll be yours for the rest of your natural life—I’ll Magic Marker our names on the bottom and throw the rest out to eliminate temptation. That could work…”
Meanwhile, he fills the dishwasher with my sins, lining them up on the top rack like firing squad felons. Each addition to the lineup is punctuated with a sigh and a shake of John’s head.
“Eight glasses for three people. Really, two people. I still have MY glass. I don’t understand this.”
Once the evidence is closed up in the dishwasher, the issue is dropped. John has done his duty as Police of Glasses in our home; he has made us aware of our crime and its possible punishment.
He seems to stand a little taller as he carries his cloudy, thumb-printed, chipped glass full of an unidentifiable liquid into the living room.
It seems all men feel it is their duty to control an area of home life, ensuring the continued social and structural input into the family unit.
The most important Police Duty in homes is one John shares with men all over the world. And it’s their favorite.
“EVERY LIGHT IN THE HOUSE IS ON! IS THIS A LIGHTHOUSE FOR LOST TRAVELERS? “
For the complete column, see this week’s edition of the Centralia Fireside Guard.