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Lilly and roommate Chris had been going head to head about doing the dishes; specifically how Chris was *not* doing them.  Lilly likes a clean kitchen so that when she wants to cook she does not have to clean up first.  You would think that Chris, a professional chef in training, would understand this.  Clean slate when it's time to create, that sort of thing. This was not the case with Chris.  He regularly left spattered grease, crumbs, dirty dishes and food lying about.  And not only in the kitchen.  The bedroom, under the bed, in the bathroom, ick.

 
Lilly came home and noticed that Chris had left his car lights on, and then saw another kitchen mess.  She was about to tell Chris about the car lights, really, when she heard a soft knock on the front door.  She shouted out, "Come in sweetie!"  thinking it was me. A slight digression, I knock before coming in because, apparently, I have a habit of "bursting" through the door like a one-man home invasion force, causing Lilly to jump four feet, banging into furnitture, spilling liquids, enlivening hair, and causing a chain reaction of exploding cats, bounding in various directions.  The knock is a courtesy warning, a small "You are not about to die" announcement.  
 

There is another small knock, so Lilly goes and answers the door.  It is our very nice neighbor lady who says, "I noticed that your roommate left his lights on".  Without missing a beat Lilly responds, perhaps a tad heatedly, "Yeah, I know.  I'll tell him when he stops being such as ass about dong the dishes".  Neighbor lady goes wide eyed and scampers (she really does scamper) back to her place next door.  A few minutes go by and Lilly pauses, considers her response, looks out the windows to see neighbor lady and hubby out side for a smoke.  She leans out the door and shouts, "What I meant to say was 'Thank you'!".  Neighbors bust up.