Is It Sharp?

When I'm cleaning dishes, I'm a little compulsive about what gets cleaned first. This might sound strange to those among my friends who know that I really hate doing the dishes. But, still. I have a method, okay? The plates go first, then saucers, bowls, spoons, forks, knives.

The knives are always last. They kind of scare me. I think about them the entire time I'm sudsing the rest. And yes, "sudsing" is a word. As I'm running the rag over each dish and each piece of flatware leading up to the cleaning of the knives, I glance over at them periodically. I memorize their placement on the counter so that I can formulate in my mind the correct way for my left hand to make its approach when it's their turn.

Here's how the approach usually takes place: The knife's lethal edge is faced toward the refrigerator (or toward my left) with the handle nearest to me and the pointed tip casting terror into the backsplash. My left hand is careful to grasp the handle and to carry the knife toward the rag in my right hand with the blade still directed at the refrigerator. That way the knife doesn't suddenly shred the offensive rag that dares to clean it and my poor, innocent right hand.

Well, it's not really that dramatic, but it is true nonetheless. I'm afraid the knives are going to get me. The worst of it, though, is that as I'm wiping one clean, I really want to find out if it's sharp. Is it sharp?