Dishes in the oven

I've been getting the house ready to sell, which is not so easy when it's full of critters. The top two things that are vital to selling a house are 1) get rid of clutter and 2) get rid of critters and/or all signs of critters. Right now the critter count is up to three (not counting the kids): the dog, the cat and the bunny. I'm supposed to get rid of all signs of them, which is near impossible because the little beasts practically put up flags. Every time Dog has pees on the carpet she announces to the world, "I own this house. If you have any questions, please come to me." The problem with this is that, though generous with urine, she doesn't pay the mortgage or fix anything around the house. So she and I sat down this morning after our walk and we talked this out.

"Look," I said to her, taking a seat at the table. She sat across from me, a her Chiuaua face looking solemn on her Boston Terrier body. My dog is a pretty black and white mix of everything yappy. "I know you like living here and I consider you...well, like family..."
Dog's head jerked into the direction of a fly buzzing to our right. I cleared my throat to get her attention.
"Be that as it may," I continued, "I would really appreciate it if you didn't pee on the carpet anymore. You are technically housebroken, you know. So I know that you know what you're doing."
In reply, she began to bite her butt.
"Exactly! See! That's the problem!" I cried, elated that I was getting my point across. "Now, just bite that butt completely off, and we don't have a problem anymore! Wait..." Dog hopped onto the floor. "Wait, we're not done here! You didn't bite it completely off! You better not pee on anything!" She trotted off in search of something to pee on. "I'm serious!" I yelled after her, and I swore I could hear she and my son laughing together somewhere in the house.
"She tried to housebreak me too!" he giggled, and the dog laughed so hard she wet herself.

So that's how I'm taking care of the no-sign-of-critter rule. Decluttering is coming along much better. I've given away things, I've sold other things, and whatever things that I have not sold or given away I have stuffed in places that no one will look. Like this morning when I put dirty dishes in the oven.

Now, before you judge me, understand that the dishes were overflowing in the sink, everyone was getting ready for school, I was still in my pajamas, and we had 15 minutes before we had to leave. It was either that or the trunk of my car, which honestly, I've done before. Not with dirty dishes, but with laundry and toys or other apparatus that I've found and said, "This goes to something...but what is it? Is it important? Should I throw it away?"
"That's the rabbit, Mom," my daughter tells me.
I hold the fluffy critter closer to my face, examinging it. "But do we use it for anything?"
"Yes," she assures me. "Don't put it in the trunk."

So the rabbit is not in my car, but I've stuffed other things in there in a rush before someone comes to look at the house - paper work, old clothes, old skates. Things that I looked at and thought, "I'll go through all of this later. Right now I just need it out of the way." And so I drive around with it. This is not entirely due to tiredess. Some of it is just plain I-don't-want-to-do-it-ness. When I come home from work I want to change into pajamas, spend time with the kids, catch up with someone on the phone, write, or read. This THIS is why there are dishes in my oven! Darn it, I'm just not the decluttering type by nature.

Or I could just blame it on the dog. It's all her fault.