Sadly this strip is not as far removed from reality as one might hope. I mean, it hadn’t been a whole year, the dishes weren’t talking yet, and his beard didn’t consume his head in an attempt to avoid manual labor. But otherwise? 100% truth.

The worst thing is when something in the house smells awful and you can’t figure out where the odor is coming from. Then you find it’s coming from the sink. Could be a pile of dishes, could be one or two. Obviously however, something in there didn’t age well, to put it mildly. It’s a small mercy when you can’t tell what the substance in the basin that was formerly known as food used to be. Who knows what emotional scars that would leave?

But this creates a problem. The stench has grown in power, and you can’t just leave it there, but at that exact moment in time there is no other location on the planet that you would rather be at less.

I don’t have a solution to this dilemma. Likely this problem will stump philosophers for ages. Or at least until robot servants become commonplace. Then we will enter a golden age of humanity, that shall last right up to the inevitable robot uprising.