Truth or Lie?

Some women (and perhaps some men, although I only have the female perspective) possess a little-known, but extraordinary skill they use without thinking.   They have mastered such a level of sophistication that ordinary mortals often do not recognize when it’s employed.  Many significant others, logical as they are, often appear unaware of this invisible yet effective super power.

No, not everyone can wiggle their way out of a potentially dangerous encounter.  Some females, however, seem to have a natural propensity for not quite explaining everything.  They tell the truth, but they don’t tell it all.  These women subscribe to the theory that it’s best not to divulge what someone doesn’t need to know.  No, this is not a “half lie.”  I prefer to call this more aptly, “stretching the truth.”

“Honey, is that new?” 

 

“No, dear, I’ve had this dress for awhile.”  She’s not lying. It’s been in the closet for a month and a half.  She has, therefore, had the dress for awhile; she just hasn’t worn it.  She’s telling the truth, but not telling more than she needs.  She is “stretching the truth.”

Her husband, if he is concerned, will not be upset about her spending what he perceives as unnecessary money on more clothes.  There will be no disgruntlement. There will be no grievance about finances.  All will be pleasant, and he will probably even say, “You look good in it, Honey.”

Stretching the truth also can prevent hurt feelings in many instances.   If a friend wears an outfit that no one but a gorilla at a zoo, or someone choosing a costume for Halloween would wear, the friend might ask, “Do you like this?”

Even though I am an honest person, if I know someone is uber sensitive, I might temper my reply by utilizing a little tact and “stretching the truth” by saying, “It’s certainly different.  I don’t think anyone else will have an outfit like that.” 

 

I’m not lying.  It is different. Hideously different.  I just don’t want to say, “It’s so different, no one in their right mind would wear that,” or, “It looks like someone beat that outfit with an ugly stick.”  "Stretching the truth" can certainly make life more pleasant.

 When my sister-in-law called to interrogate me about who put the “Happy 40^th Birthday” signs all over her front lawn, she asked, “Did you do it?”  I laughed and replied honestly, “No, I did not put the signs in your yard.” 

 

I told the truth.  I just didn’t tell everything.  I had my husband, at the time, go down in the cover of darkness, and plant the signs I had purchased, in her yard for me.  If she would have asked if I knew who planted the signs, I would have had no other choice but to say, “Yes.”

 

“Stretching the truth” certainly can make life more enjoyable for everyone, as well as help prevent hassles.  “Stretching the truth” can also be considered a form of tact which provides a morally right alternative for that urge to lie when backed into a corner, with unpleasantness or hurt feelings ready to pounce.  This is, indeed, the truth.

Dishwasher Mystery

Two broadcast personalities (one female, one male) from an early morning show commented this week on what they thought the worst daily/weekly household chore was, and to my surprise, they selected number two on my list – unloading the dishwasher.  Even more of a surprise, unloading the dishwasher topped the survey list shared on air by their colleague.

What is it about unloading the dishwasher that makes so many folks cringe?  There doesn’t seem to be a logical explanation.   Even people I’ve asked can’t explain why they, too, dislike unloading the dishwasher so much. 

 Is it that folks are allergic to cleanliness? Do we secretly wish we were still kids playing in the garden dirt?  Are we, instead, afraid if we are too clean, we will have to work hard to keep up the perfection? 

 I willingly load my dishwasher, as I’m sure many of you do.  I will spend several days after running it, however, ignoring the fact the clean silver and dishes cry each time I pass by to be let out.  They beg me to unload them and put them back in their rightful places, and I ignore their pleas as long as I can.  I brazenly strut past them and sashay around the kitchen.  

I admit I even take clean silverware and glasses from the dishwasher to use, rather than just spending time to unload my lovely built-in model.  Maybe I think if I keep raiding the clean load, the unloading problem will disappear as there will be nothing left to unload.  The problem with this thinking, however, is that dirty dishes and glasses pile up in the meantime – the dirty ones have nowhere to go.  I can’t put the dirty things directly in the dishwasher and get them out of my sink or off my counter if the dishwasher is still waiting to be unloaded.

Time is not the problem.  It doesn’t take much time to unload the dishwasher or to put away the clean items.  I can probably unload mine in five minutes.  Dusting takes much longer, as does vacuuming, folding laundry, and other chores, yet many of us choose unloading the dishwasher as our least favorite chore.  Heck, I’d rather clean the toilet than unload the dishwasher and put away all the cleaned items.

Perhaps some people who think the clean items are out of sight (in the dishwasher) and therefore, out of mind, live in a fantasy world, fooling only themselves.  So what are these folks doing with the dirty dishes?  Hiding them inside the oven?  Don’t they realize someone may decide to preheat the oven before baking, and all their lovely dishes will melt, making a giant mess?  It’s happened to someone I know quite well with the initials C.S., so don’t attempt this disguise at home (even when you have unexpected company arriving).  Unload the dishwasher in a timely fashion, please.  You’ll be much happier if you do.