Ameranth is coughing her way through the end of a cold, and semi-stoicly doing the dishes. I know- health code, right? We don't do that here- anyone who feels the yen to wash dishes (because we do them by hand) gets the greenlight. I think she feels the way I do too- that in order to relax guiltfree when you don't feel well, the place needs to be neat(er). Oddly enough, if I feel fine, I have no problem with letting the dishes go, because I can always feel like doing them later.
Anyway. She walks in and announces, "Mom, this is my list of needs for a life partner. He needs to want to travel, like to play Guild Wars, and not eat spaghetti sauce. Or do his own damn dishes!"