dishes

Dishes. They seem to have a life of their own around this place. I find them in the strangest of places like under beds, yet, supposedly, we only eat in the kitchen area. 

Could they possibly sprout legs and walk up the stairs and hide underneath the beds because they don't want to get washed? Maybe they prefer having the companionship of broken crayons, loose change, and the occasional dirty sock (and that's only one because we all know socks go into the wash one at a time!). Maybe they enjoy dried spaghetti sauce clinging tightly to their surface. And they could like the feel of carpet. You don't know.