Sundays

The main thing I hate about Sundays is doing the pots after Lunch. You’ve just finished a great meal, you’re back to work the next day and you just want to sit down and relax, but these things don’t do themselves I guess. I always wanted a dish washer, but my Mother won’t have one in the house.
“They don’t clean them as well as by hand, and I don’t care what you tell me different.” She’d growl, so instead, here I stand, hands in hot water with a sponge as I remove the dried gravy from the plates. We’d eaten well today because we’d had a neighbour for dinner, so Mother always did extra. Roast potatoes by the plateful, extra vegetables and good old Yorkshire puddings by the dozen, It’s a good job we have such a large oven otherwise we’d never manage.
I can hear them in there now, snoring, sleeping of the excess carbohydrates they’ve forced into themselves. Dad’s deep rhythmic snoring that could wake the dead, and Grandma’s whistle snore, caused by her false teeth falling loose. Rufus comes running in and I toss him a bone from one of the plates, he catches it and gnaws at it gratefully as I continue to wash up.
The plates are round and large, the special plates we only use for special occasions, I remember growing up as a kid being amazed at the size of them, my portion back them had been obviously smaller than it is now that made them look even bigger than they were. I drop the last onto the draining tray and search underwater for any missing items before I pull the plug.
The drain gurgles as the water forces its way past some food that’s got stuck there, so I press it down with my fingers to clear it. It’s then that I remember the tray in the oven. Quickly plopping the plug back in and run some more hot water before walking over to get it. There’s not much meat left on it, not after my family’s had its way, but you could still make out the features of Mrs Longford. My younger brother wants another bone so I pull the Ulna free from her arm and toss it to him.
Like I said, I really hate doing the pots. As a Werewolf, it takes ages for my hands to dry.