Not the slightest bit important.

Cleaning the sink. Again.
Since purchasing a dishwasher, it occurred to me that the sink never gets cleaned now. (you know, doing dishes scrubs the sink, automatically! how kewl is that?)...errrrr....WAS that.

anyhoo. scrubbing the sink. thinking.

Back a few(?) years. My dad and mom come over for coffee. (Well, mom does. Dad's just snooping). Daddy dearest walks into the kitchen, scopes out the sink, grumbles, takes my mom aside.
"Doesn't she ever clean the sink?"--mind you, back then it was the old ceramic-type-sink, lots of stains and pits--

Seeing how dad's whispers tended to boom out, unbeknownst to him, I heard. Hurt my feelers. (Remember back? When the slightest disparaging comment, from your parents, could cut to the core?)

OK. Enuf whining. Now for the Rest of the Story...

Thanks, Dad. You left an impression on me. I believe, after all these years, that you taught me to NOT "critique" (sp) my children's cleaning habits, lifestyles, and overall life choices. I've tried hard to keep from hurting their feelers. Oh, sure....I've crossed the line at SOME point. (What mother hasn't?) Gimme a break, kids. I'm trying, and, hopefully, succeeding. For the most part.