Now I understand my mother
Growing up in Ohio with many relatives nearby my dear mother had the same disease I have now. OCD. We could have a big fish frry at the house but my mother watched us like a hawk ready to grab any plate that was empty so she could wash it. So many times people were not done eating but she wanted to do it NOW so she wouldn't have a pile of dishes in the sink. and now DAMMIT, I do it also. Hurry up so I can do the dishes.
My husband and I were overnight guests at someone's home. She served us breakfast pastries at the kitchen counter - we were seated at barstools on the dining/living side, she was in the kitchen. She didn't provide dishes or paper plates, just squares of paper towel and she swiped up every crumb that landed on the counter, while we were eating. Way to make your guests comfortable! We have managed to decline all subsequent invitations. Then again, that could have been the plan all along... ;-)
Making soup made me *get* my mother a little more (my mother was functionally un-understandable!). We always joked about Mom's Miracle-Gro soup, that would go through several increasingly large pots before reaching its final state. As a kid in Sunday school hearing about loaves and fishes, I always thought of Mom's soups. They could indeed feed a multitude. (And well, BTW)
And now my soups grow in the same way. It works, as there are work lunches and College Boy to tend to, as well as teen drop-ins. I do understand the miracle soup pot a little more now, even though, yes, it makes me a little head-shaky-crazy now and then! So very much soup goes through this house. Maybe I am genetically unable to stop it? ;-)