The kitchen sink and the empty-nester.

Being an empty-nester, I can wash the dishes by hand in five minutes. I can let the dishes pile up for three days before I wash them. The kitchen sink used to be permanently attached to my tummy. I always had a wet circle about waist-high no matter how careful I was. The kitchen sink had a system. A clean side and a dirty side except for when the dirty side invaded the clean side. There was one dishrag for dishes and another for floor spills except for when the floor spill was bigger and required lots of dishrags. One cutting board for fruits and veggies, one for raw meats and one for slicing bread except for when we couldn't find one then it was a free for all. Usually that was when I would find all three cutting boards in the back next to the grill. 

Being an empty-nester, my kitchen sink has two plates in the morning. One or two at lunch and two more in the evening. Just two. One for me and one for husband-dear.  No more baseball teams,  or my son's girlfriend and all her friends. No more gaggle of girls dropping in for an impromptu tea-party on great-grandmother's fine china. No more falling asleep a mother of three and waking up to a den full of teenagers asleep on every surface.  No more Saturday morning and the bottomless pancake griddle. No more Sunday afternoon and the all you can eat smoked chicken thighs.

 Being an empty-nester, I hardly even visit the kitchen sink any more.