Diman's Heart

Well, I've got to say this somewhere, and I can't use the usual outlets.

When Husband yells at the kids over stupid minor shit, I feel like a bad mother. Because I want to tell him he's overreacting and acting like a jackass, but I don't want him to yell at me the way he's yelling at them. How can I be any kind of mother when I don't have the strength of will to shield them from his asshole behavior?

So if you had an anonymous blog, and then you had an inkling that perhaps someone had found it who you hadn't meant to, but you weren't sure, would it still be a legitimate outlet for your pain and anger, or would it merely turn every future post into a passive-aggressive whine?

I'm going elsewhere, and I'm asking you not to follow.

Maybe this time you'll listen.

What am I supposed to think about my supposed best friend forgetting my birthday? Despite everyone else who remembered -- and there were more than I expected (thanks, facebook reminders!) and I deeply appreciate that -- it fucking goddamn hurts that she didn't.

She always forgets the precise date, but it's not like there was no one to fill her in. It's not like I haven't been mentioning it. It's not like I didn't post pictures of me and the kids enjoying my birthday cake to my flickr account. She could have clued in, if she'd just forgotten. A late-evening text message: "Oops, almost forgot! Happy birthday!" would've taken thirty seconds. Or this morning, after I'd posted my journal entry. "Forgot again..."

So she didn't just forget, did she?

There isn't a party planned that she's waiting for. (And anyway, she was lecturing me a couple of years ago for waiting for the party to wish her husband happy birthday.)

If I post this, will it turn out that there was some disaster, making me feel like a complete heel for being pissed and hurt about this? Possibly. But this is how I feel right now. If it turns out there was some compelling reason, I'll eat the post. With salt.

I do want a fuss for my birthday. I want a party. I want people to call or write and I want them to come over to share my cake and I don't care if there are presents -- honestly, I don't -- but I want well-wishes and hugs and to not end up on the sidelines of the conversation. And it would be nice if Husband would arrange all that without my having to tell him that's what I want. We've been married for over ten years; you'd think he'd have figured out by now that I like being in the spotlight.

Also, I'd like to stop being surprised when people who are really no more than friendly acquaintances end up being more supportive than the ones who are supposed to be my front line of support. Preferably, I'd like that sense of surprise to stop because my front line are actually supporting me.

It would be nice if any of the four emails I've sent out this morning were answered.

It would be nice if some of my twitter updates were acknowledged.

It would be nice if I could get some fucking acknowledgment that I EXIST.

Two weeks. I've lost about 7.5 pounds.

It's not visible yet. My clothes feel the same.

We had a birthday party for T's daughter this past weekend, though, and I managed to stay in my range. I didn't even use my "extra" points. Hell, I even had leftover points, which is good, because by the time we got home, I was starving. (T didn't notice that the party went straight over dinnertime, and only provided snack-type food along with the cake. Healthy snack-type food, but not very filling.)

G came down for the party. She's lost 30 pounds since the last time I saw her. I told her she looked great, but the truth is that she looked exactly the same to me. I didn't notice the change in T or her husband until they were both nearing their 20% marks, either. I'm not very observant, I guess.

And it means I won't really look different to myself until I start to reach the 50-pound mark, either. Disheartening, but at least I can look at them and know it's possible.

On the other hand, on both T and her husband, the difference between the 20% mark and the 30% mark has been almost shocking. Every time I see them, they look thinner. Maybe it's just that my brain lumps everyone into broad categories, like the BMI. "Normal" and "overweight" and "obese", and until you cross a line, I don't really notice a difference.

---

There were two full boxes of Girl Scout Thin Mint cookies in the kitchen this morning. I resisted.

Hallowe'en is coming. I need to decide how I'm going to handle it.

Well, I've been doing the Weight Watcher's plan for almost a week now.

I haven't done my official one-week weigh-in yet (that'll be tomorrow morning), but it looks like this first week nets me a loss of about 4.5 pounds. (The first week is always crazy, though, because that's when you dump extra water-weight.)

The first thing I learned is that I was absolutely right: My meals are perfectly reasonable. I haven't had to make major changes to a single meal this week in order to stay in-plan. Not even Hot Dog Thursday. (Though to be fair, I really hate the "lite" hot dog buns we've been getting to keep Dotty's carb count down, so I only use one bun for both hot dogs. I started doing that before I went on the diet -- not to cut back on calories or carbs, but so I wouldn't have to taste them so much. I'd go bunless except that I need some carbs in the meal or I won't feel satisfied.) I did have to consider carefully what to order for Eat-Out/Takeout Night on Saturday, but I managed to have a steak and feel fairly satisfied.

Granted, I'm at a high number of daily points because I'm starting out so heavy -- about 50 or 75 pounds from now, I'll have to start making some changes if I want to keep losing. But not too many. I feel vindicated, that what I've been saying all along -- that my meals are fine and my problem is the snacks -- is more or less correct.

So really, if I want to keep losing weight, all I have to do is knock it off with the junk food. That's it. Cut out the office snack bar, make a weekly trip to Trader Joe's for fruit or vegetables for my afternoon snack, and the weight should just melt off, slowly but surely.

The second thing I learned is that it really helps for me to have a plan for the day. I load up the planner in the morning and enter everything I'm planning to eat for the day, including snacks and desserts. It would feel too constraining to some people, but I really like knowing what's coming. It also staves off the sort of "point hoarding" behavior I went through when I did Weight Watchers 10 years ago -- where I'd eat the tiniest breakfast and lunch possible, just in case I was extra-hungry in the evening, and then I'd end up eating food that was bad for me in the evening so I could get up to my minimum number of points.

(Confession: I haven't been getting to my minimum number of points, this week. I usually have a surplus of 2-3 points. I'm not worrying about it.)

But planning ahead makes me feel better about it. It's not a diet. It's just my meal plan. I'm not depriving myself, here, and that's good to know. I put this week's dinner plan together before I decided to try Weight Watchers, and I didn't have to cancel or change any of my planned meals. I had shepherd's pie for dinner last night, one of my favorites. I made it the same way I always make it, with lean ground beef and real cheese and real butter in the mashed potatoes. I'm putting real half-and-half in my morning coffee. I'm eating the exact same lunch I've been eating for years -- a deli sandwich (with real cheese!) and a piece of fruit and a diet soda. I found a candy bar in my purse that I'd forgotten about -- I almost threw it away, but instead I calculated how many points it was worth, wrote it on the wrapper with a sharpie, and stuck it in my desk. I'll save it for some day when I just can't get over the cravings, and I'll eat it last thing before I leave work, to keep myself from crumbling and hitting the snack bar afterward.

The weekend was a problem -- less planning ahead, especially on Saturday. The temptation to hoard points was strong, but I forced myself to pre-plan my breakfast and lunch, reserving a fairly high number of points for dinner. Eating out will be a problem, too, but I think I can do it.

So I think I'm going to continue with Weight Watchers, at least for now, because even though all I have to do is avoid the snack bar like the plague, the structure of planning my whole day in advance is comforting for me, and knowing I've got this accountability going will hopefully help me cling to my resolution.

Some might say that my timing sucks, starting a diet right now. Especially for me -- After Hallowe'en, there's my birthday, and then Thanksgiving, and then Husband's birthday, and then Sonny's, and then Christmas... Six major excuses for going overboard inside two months, not even counting things like holiday parties. And we're going to visit Husband's family for the week of Christmas, and his grandmother's mission in life is to Feed People.

But maybe this is a challenge I need. If I can stick to the plan through all that, then I can stick to it through anything. I need to keep my expectations realistic -- maybe I should hope to maintain my weight through all these events, rather than continue to lose.

This feels... possible. We'll see.

My second day on Weight Watchers, and someone brought doughnuts for the office.

Not just any doughnuts.

Krispy Kreme doughnuts.

Chocolate-covered Krispy Kreme doughnuts.

My very favorite doughnuts in all the world.

They are 6 points each. I have 5.5 points free for snacks today, and I have my "flex" points for the week. I could have a doughnut without going off-plan.

BUT.

I know, from long experience, that I can not have one doughnut. I just can't. It doesn't satisfy. I want two, or even three. If I eat just one doughnut, then half an hour later, I'm practically screaming with the craving for more, and I'll end up grazing the snack bar for other sweets, anything to satisfy the craving. And other sweets won't do the job, and I'll end up eating like a thousand calories worth of junk food by the end of the day.

So I'm not having a doughnut, even though I could.

Because I just can't.

Wow, I totally suck -- haven't updated since MAY? Holy shit.

And I haven't even looked at my Friends pages since then, either.

Not that anything terribly amazing has happened since then. Skunk the Junk failed. I did start exercising a few months ago, and so far I'm sticking to it fairly well. It's easier to force myself to exercise for half an hour than it is to spend an entire day forcing myself not to eat.

I'm going to the YMCA and doing 30 minutes on the stationary recumbent (non-upright) bikes about three times a week. Plus I'm doing about 30 minutes of hand-weights, sit-ups, and leg stretches and exercises 4-5 days a week. Not too bad, right?

(You'd think after three months, I'd actually notice some progress or change. I've made significant progress in both the weights and the bike-riding capabilities, but I still get winded and sore going up stairs and I can't carry Sonny around for more than a couple of minutes before my arms ache.)

So I'm attempting the Weight Watchers Online trial. One week, and we'll see how it goes.

For now, at least, I'm doing it in secret. I'm not telling anyone, because... I don't know. Am I setting myself up for failure? It's possible. I really don't want T to know, though, because she would be mad that I'm doing it mostly because of her. Because she doesn't want it to be yet another stupid competition thing between us. But she's lost like 60 pounds this year alone, and I'm sick with envy and I'm tired of hating myself because she's in control of her life. And it is kind of a competition, in my head, even though I know it shouldn't be. So I just don't want to tell her. Not until I've found out whether this is something I can do.

Stay tuned. I will bitch a lot, or else I will fall silent. It's nice to know I don't have an audience.

Not too bad.

I was still staying away from chocolate, and in addition I cut out anything with the word "hydrogenated" on the ingredients list. (It was interesting, what did and didn't use the stuff, actually.)

That wasn't too bad, actually -- there were plenty of alternatives. I did cave and have some chocolate on Friday, though. I was particularly tired, and it was an especially stressy day, sosumi.

This week's additional challenge is to keep each day's snack consumption to 600 calories or less. (Yes, I'm aware it sounds like a lot. An entire extra meal's worth of food, in fact. There is a reason I'm fat.

I want to walk again this week, too, but first I need to call the doctor and have him do something about my bum knee.

I went for a walk today, bad knees and ankles and feet be damned. I was in a foul, foul mood this morning, and I needed some airing.

It's the perfect day for a walk. Sunny and breezy, not too humid (for this area, anyway) and just about 75. Okay, perfect walking weather would've been closer to 70, but still, pretty damn nice.

The street that I work on is a circle (ish) that is just about exactly one mile around, which makes it handy for exercising. I made it all the way around. I can't say it felt good, because my shins and feet were screaming, but it felt like progress.

I'm still not in the very best of moods, but at least I'm not quite poised on the verge of either tears or violence anymore.

Week 1: success! No chocolate from the snack bar. I was still putting hot chocolate mix in my coffee in the mornings, but then the free hot chocolate mix ran out, so... I went back to my Splenda Flavor Packets or whatever they're called. (Probably for the best, that.) After that... no chocolate at all, actually.

Though I did buy a jug of caramel popcorn on Wednesday and then eat the whole thing before the week was out. (But it wasn't chocolate!) And Husband and I consumed most of an entire box of mini cinnamon rolls from Sam's Club on Sunday. (By "most of" I mean that Dotty had two of the 32 rolls, and Husband and I had the rest, over the course of the day.) That might have contributed to the heartburn I had at bedtime, but they were soooo good.

But still -- no chocolate! Especially, no chocolate from the office kitchen. I'll accept that as a success.

This week, in addition to avoiding the chocolate, I'm skunking anything with hydrogenated oil in it. (And you have to be careful. They're allowed to print "0g trans fats" for any amount less than 0.5g, so you need to read the ingredients and scan for the word "hydrogenated".)

This reduces my options less than you might think, really. (Yes, I looked at labels while I was waiting for coffee to brew this morning.) Quite a few chips are now being made without hydrogenated oils. Most of the cracker packs are fair game, and microwave popcorn, and granola bars. There are organic pop-tarts (sorry, "toaster pastries") that don't have trans fats. And some of the "meal" type snacks in the freezer (e.g., Hot Pockets) are okay, too. Sometimes they stock packs of nuts, too.

So wish me luck!

Some of my friends are seriously dieting. Almost all of them, actually. I don't want to go on a diet. I don't want to make a "life change" right now.

On the other hand, there are plenty of little changes I can -- should -- make to improve my health. I'm going to talk about them here because I'm anonymous here, and if my plans fall through, no one I know is going to throw this back in my face.

1. More veggies! Because of Dotty's diabetes, the family is already eating more vegetables than we used to. Of course, her tastes are limited, so we're limited to the same six vegetables every week (corn, peas, green beans, carrots, tomatoes, and broccoli -- which is a wider range than a lot of little kids have, but still feels kind of limiting to me). One of my initiatives is to keep trying new vegetables. I'm not a fan of side-salads -- too much work for not enough satisfaction -- but now that summer's approaching, I'll consider entree salads again. I might see about mixing it up with a little avocado this year (I know, I know, it's technically a fruit, shut up). Dotty didn't like sweet potatoes the last time I made them, but I'll probably throw them into the mix every couple of months to see if she'll change her mind, maybe trying some different preparations. And I found a recipe recently for using butternut squash to make "fries" -- Husband might be coaxed into trying that, despite his distaste for squash.

2. Healthier starches! When our current bag of white Comet rice is used up, I'll replace it with brown rice -- same carb and calorie count, but slightly higher fiber and lots more actual nutrients. It takes longer to cook, but I can plan around that. Also, I'm going to try replacing our favorite flavored couscous (parmesan) with plain couscous cooked in broth, to reduce both calories and sodium. (Not much I can do about potatoes, but I don't make those more than once a week.)

3. Skunk the Junk! I really ought to do away with my junk-food habit at work. It's far too easy for me to grab a bag of chips or a candy bar whenever I walk through the kitchen at work. (It's not even a vending machine -- it's managed by office volunteers, and there's an IOU honor system in place for people who don't have cash on hand, so I can't get around it that way.)

So this week, I'm starting a "Skunk the Junk" challenge. It's not cold-turkey -- the first week, I just have to skip the chocolate. (Chocolate is my big weakness. I can't seem to have just one candy bar. Or even just two.) Next week, I can have chocolate again, but I can't have anything with hydrogenated oil in it. Week 3, I can have anything I want, but I have to limit myself to 600 calories a day. (It sounds like a lot. I'm ashamed to admit how often I go over that limit right now.) Weeks 4 and 5, anything I want, but no more than 2 items per day. Week 6 is 1 item per day. Week 7 is one item per day, and it can't be chocolate. Week 8 is the first NO JUNK week.

That's the plan, anyway. And this only applies to the snack-counter at work. If I want a chocolate dessert when Husband and I meet for lunch, fine. If I pick up a bag of chips when I stop at Subway, fine. I'm only trying to eliminate the mindless office grazing.

Also, as I get to week 3 and the actual amount of snackfood starts to be limited, I'll start bringing in my own snacks. Edamame. Chicken salad and Kashi crackers. A big bag of carrots. Extra fruit. Leftover couscous or rice. The idea here is not to try to eat less, just to try to eat better.

If this initiative doesn't work and I just can't force myself to kick the junk habit by the end of July, then I will request an office move to the other suite, where the kitchen is not continuously stocked.

4. Move My Butt! Exercise. I have a hate-hate relationship with it. I hate it, and sometimes, I really hate it. Nevertheless, it disturbs me that I'm too out of breath to sing to Sonny after I carry him up to his room for bed. One flight of stairs should not do that to me. I have many excuses for staying away from exercise -- bad feet, bad knees, bad back -- but ultimately, they're excuses. I've already told Husband that, once Sonny is weaned, I intend to go back to yoga class. (I'm waiting until he's weaned because right now, I'm taking about an hour and a half out of each workday to pump, and the yoga class I want is during work hours, and doing both would be straining even my very laid-back boss's patience.) Until then, I'm going to try to find time for at least a short walk at least three days a week, and do some strength-training exercises with weights the other two workdays.

I was driving back to work from lunch today, and I saw a vanity license plate: "B4GIVEN"

It made me think.

I don't have anything against Christians, as a whole. The ones I've known have -- mostly -- been smart, fun-loving, and friendly. Very few of them have tried to proselytize at me, and the few who have tried have generally stopped when I asked them to.

But I have to say, the "forgiveness" thing rather perplexes me. How, precisely, does this factor as an incentive? If you don't already believe, then you're probably not feeling a need for forgiveness... are you?

And what, precisely, are we being forgiven for, anyway?

Generally, one wants to be forgiven for having done something wrong, yes? But I can't think of anything I've done that's so wrong I need a god's forgiveness. Individuals, sure, all the time -- I say the wrong thing a lot, and then I need a friend's forgiveness for having hurt their feelings. Maybe several people at once.

Society's forgiveness, maybe: I break laws sometimes (little ones, like the speed limit) and then (sometimes, if I get caught) I have to pay my sentence (fines) before society will forgive me.

But what have I done that could possibly have offended, hurt, or disrupted all of creation? Besides simply existing, perhaps -- but then, I'm part of creation, too, and I feel entitled to my existence. Should I feel guilty for it? If I wasn't alive, would there be more puppies in the universe? Should I feel bad for that?

Why would I feel the need to turn to God for His forgiveness unless I already believe I've broken His rules -- which would require that I believe that He has made rules that can be broken? (As opposed to, say, His rules of physics, which are jaw-droppingly elegant and completely unbreakable.)

Cognitive Surplus. Extra Thought.

How much time do you spend in a day avoiding thinking?

This video is too long (15 minutes) to be truly viral, but I'd love to see it make the rounds. Everyone ought to watch this and think about it.

Cognitive Surplus (link via Warren Ellis, because I couldn't figure out how to link just the video itself from work, which blocks 99% of video feeds.)

If you'd rather read than watch, here's the transcript, straight from the author himself, Clay Shirky: Gin, Television, and Social Surplus.

I got four and a half hours of sleep last night. For a while there, I was so exhausted that I actually felt nauseous.

Every time Husband complains about being tired, I want to throw something at him and scream, "How the fuck do you think I feel, you insensitive prick?"

But that's probably just the exhaustion talking.

I have that feeling in my... it's not my stomach, nor quit my throat. My esophagus? Is that the proper place to keep one's sense of foreboding and anxiety/anticipation? It lacks character, or romance, or something.

In any case, that feeling.

I won't try to tell you that it's infallible. Or even usually right. It's just a feeling, not fluttering butterflies but wriggling caterpillars. I'm about to get into a major confrontation. Or someone I love is in danger. Or I'll get home tonight to find the house burnt down. Or I'm falling in love.

Probably not that last one.

I hate the feeling. It's distracting. I feel nervous, like there's something I've forgotten to do that's very important. I can't seem to concentrate on anything for more than a minute or two. I have things I need to get done, and they're not getting done.

So Husband and I left the kids with my folks last night and went out to dinner to celebrate our anniversary. It was nice. We picked the kids up, went home, and went through a somewhat rushed bedtime routine, as we were nearly an hour behind-schedule.

Tested Dotty's blood sugar, and -- crap, a low. She'd spent a lot of time running around my parents' house, and the exertion had kicked her metabolism into high gear. Got some juice into her, blew another 15 minutes, tested again... Okay, on the rise. Put her to bed, and by then I was too tired to shower, and I had a headache from the rich food and unaccustomed alcohol. It was an effort to stay awake until Sonny's 10pm feeding.

Fed him, and then checked Dotty again. Crap, *another* low. More juice, another 15-minute wait... Finally, into bed, around 10:45.

Midnight - Dotty gets up to go to the bathroom. She doesn't come into our room, but her turning on the bathroom light wakes us anyway. She doesn't turn it off, either, so I have to get up to do that.

2:57 - I wake up a couple of minutes in advance of the alarm. Two lows in a row made a middle-of-the-night check on Dotty a necessity. I sneak into her room and do the check. She's fine, even a whisker high.

4:14 - Sonny wakes up. He's been sleeping through the night pretty solidly for the last couple of weeks, but screwing with kids' schedules can mess up their sleep in unexpected ways. I get him changed while Husband goes downstairs for a bottle.

4:45 - I wake up when Husband comes back to bed, and listen to Sonny grunt for a while.

5:37 - Dotty comes in to tell us she wants to get up. I send her back to her room to read.

5:42 - Dotty is done reading and wants to get up. I send her back to her room again.

6:00 - Dotty really, really wants to get up now. I give up and get out of bed.

Dinner was nice. I'm not entirely convinced it was that nice.

First wine, then dark chocolate, and now coffee. I knew that if I just waited long enough, science would find a way to vindicate the really good things in life.

Here's an annoyance for you: Nearly every evening, Husband comes into the kitchen and says, "What can I do to help?"

Which really shouldn't be annoying, right? I mean, wow, he's offering to help out!

But here's the thing. Why does he need me to tell him what to do? There's a pretty long list of chores that have to be done every single night, and another long list of chores that have to be done at least a couple of times a week. Why can't he just look around and see what's already done and what still needs to be done, pick out a job to do, and do it? Why does he need me to tell him what to do?

See, here's the things that have to be done every single night:

• If there are clean dishes in the dishwasher, put them away.
  
• Put the dirty dishes in the dishwasher (except the baby bottles and certain other items that for whatever reason have to be hand-washed).
  
• Hand-wash the bottles and other items that have to be hand-washed.
  
• Prep Dotty's lunchbox for the next day, including cooking any items that need to be cooked. (The daycare kitchen lady can throw stuff in the microwave for a bit, but doesn't have time for anything more involved.) There's usually a pre-planned menu printout to follow that includes breakfast, lunch, and snack, with portion sizes and carb counts.
  
• Prep Sonny's lunchbox for the next day. That's 5 bottles, each containing about 5oz of pumped milk and/or formula. Every bottle gets a masking-tape label with his name and the date on it. Bottles containing milk must also be marked with a red dot. (For this reason, I use a red sharpie for the labels. It's easier than changing markers mid-stream.) Leftover bottles are good for one and only one day, so if I'm putting a leftover bottle back in the lunchbox for the next day, I usually put a "Use Me First!" label on its top.
  
• Prep lunches for Husband and I for the next day (remembering to include, with mine, 2 empty bottles for pumped milk).
  
• Update Dotty's tracking chart with her blood sugar readings and insulin doses from the day's worksheet from school.
  
• Update Dotty's tracking chart with the previous night's late-night blood sugar readings and any treatments.
  
• Review Dotty's kit and make sure it's fully stocked: when she leaves for school, it should have at least 4 syringes, 2 refill drums for the lancet, and at least 5-6 test strips. I also do a quick check to make sure there's sufficient insulin in the cartridge, a box of glucotabs, and the red Serious Emergency minikit, but those aren't usually a problem.
  
• Make dinner. I try to time it so that dinner is on the table between 6 and 6:15, though it doesn't always work out that way. If I can, I get Dotty's portion on a plate a good 5 minutes or so before Husband's and mine, because she's much more sensitive to heat than we are, and much less patient about waiting for it to cool. It also gives me some time to...
  
• Figure out how many carbs are in Dotty's dinner (a 2-step process, as it's easier to figure out the amounts in each portion before we eat, and then it needs to be adjusted after dinner if she didn't finish everything).
  
• Check Dotty's blood sugar level (before dinner).
  
• Compute Dotty's insulin dosage, and give her the shot (after dinner).
  
• At least one feeding for Sonny.
  
• Get Sonny put to bed the first time. (This either takes thirty seconds or thirty minutes, depending on his mood.)
  
• Get Dotty put to bed. (This takes about thirty minutes and for both Husband and I.)
  
• Make sure there's a clean bottle upstairs for Sonny's middle-of-the-night feeding.
  
• Feed the cat.
  

I'm sure I'm forgetting things. And to complicate things, some evenings we have to:

• Give Dotty her bath. That has to be before dinner, because otherwise the warm water makes her post-dinner insulin absorb too quickly.
  
• Give Sonny his bath.
  
• Put clean laundry away. This usually gets done by whoever's supervising Dotty's bath, now that she's old enough not to need continuous watching.
  
• Start laundry. We regularly do laundry on the weekends, but sometimes we'll need to do a load in the middle of the week, as well.
  
• Restock portions of Dotty's diabetes kit upstairs.
  
• Prep slowcooker meals for the next day.
  
• Run various errands that can't wait for the weekend.
  
• Menu planning, both for our meals at home and for Dotty's meals at school.
  

To be fair, Husband does a lot of this stuff without having to be told... but I don't understand why he has to be prompted for the rest. I mean, I'm happy to provide details if he doesn't know them ("Can this go in the dishwasher?"), but seriously, it shouldn't be that hard to tell whether everyone's lunch has been made, or if there are dishes to be washed, or...

Maybe I'll just start always answering with the jobs I hate to do the most.