You know all those resolutions I mentioned over the weekend? Forget ’em. My real resolution for this year is simply to keep up with the dishes. I cook a lot and so the tide of dirty things in my sink seems never to end (and I’m even in possession of a functional dishwasher).

Because my kitchen is small, I have no option but to clean as I work. If I don’t, I quickly run out of places to put things and my ability to make dinner or test recipes for the current blog/book/freelance project quickly grinds to a halt (you have not lived until you’ve seen me spinning in circles with a hot pot and no place to put it. Truly, it’s a sight).

I do a fairly good job keeping up with the daytime flow. The place where I falter is with the final round of dinner dishes. So often, by the time we’ve eaten, I’m just done with the kitchen. One answer might be to get Scott to do some dishes, but that doesn’t always go as hoped (we occasionally have different definitions of the word clean). And so in my late night haze, I leave dishes in the sink to deal with the next day.

Trouble is, I hate waking up to a pile of dirty plates and pots. This comes in large part from my early childhood training. My mom couldn’t go to sleep until the sink was emptied and the counters were wiped. While I’m not as severely afflicted as she, I do end up indulging in a little self-flagellation on the nights when I leave pans to soak.

As I’ve written this, I’m starting to think that maybe the solution is just to come to grips with my imperfections instead of holding myself to an impossible standard. Who knows. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some dishes to do.