I know how I am going to die. I am convinced that I will meet my maker due to a bout with testicular cancer. This condition will be brought on by prolonged exposure to a wholly unnatural product. It's a seemingly innocuous household item, but I maintain that it is concentrated evil. I'll come back to that in a moment.
My wife cooks, and I do the dishes. It's not that I want to do the dishes, it's more the fact that she won't. Some people don't do windows, she doesn't do dishes. To those who would ask, yes, we have a dishwasher. But anyone who has lived with a chef has seen that every pot and pan in a 4 mile radius seems to get used in the meal preparation process, so the dishwasher is a help, not a solution.
In an effort to cut back on the water bill, she has taken a liking to a new dishwashing product. This distilled and re-scented semen of the Desolate One is known as Dawn Direct Foam. This stuff is beyond strange.
For those of you who are not familiar with this soon to be removed from retail shelves bottle of blasphemy, I'll explain. A small pump of this soap is placed on a damp sponge, and then it never goes away. That one pump can scrub the dishes from Thanksgiving, and with one squeeze, the sponge is still soapy. It never stops. The suds just keep coming.
The fact that the soap never ends would be a little funny if it wasn't for the fact that it will one day lead to my aforementioned case of nut cancer. All the water one saves during the washing process is wasted in the few minutes one takes to try to rinse the sponge out.
Rinse, squeeze, rinse, leave water running, squeeze, squeeze, douse, squeeze, rinse, ahhhh, to hell with it. The still slightly soapy sponge goes back as is, because, really...I don't have the hours nor the supply of fresh water needed to get Beelzebub's ball batter out of the damn sponge.
So, that's how I'm going to die. I only hope that the ensuing litigation against the parent company pays enough to pay the water bill and my funeral.