13 out of 31: Dishes

Dishes

I just stood on the kitchen gel mat in my socks and sweats and did the dishes. Now, I know what many of you are thinking. You're wondering if I put my bowls on the top rack or the bottom rack of the dishwasher. Well, the answer is neither. You see, I am the dishwasher. 

So there I stood on that gel mat that soothed my aching feet and reached down to grab another dirty glass. Scrubbing with my dish wand, which required no spells or magical incantations, bubbles and suds filled the glass until I held it under steaming hot water. The bubbles disappeared and I gently set the glass top down in the dish drying rack. Next, I gingerly picked up a white dinner plate. I carefully scrubbed in circles making sure to remove every last trace of the cheese nachos that had sat atop its surface only moments before. Rinsed it in hot water and stacked it against the back of the dish drying rack. It now stood sentry over the glasses and bowls. Next comes silverware. I always save the silverware for last, and I paid special attention to cleaning the tines of the forks and the serrated edges of the knives. Knives never go into the dish rack. They are dried immediately with a dish towel and returned to their knife block. 

It may sound crazy, but after a long day (field trip with 90+ 8th graders to the History Museum followed by four hours of Parent/Teacher Conferences), I love the hot soapy water and mindless routine of the dishes. I love the empty sink that stares back at me once the last dish is done and the sense of having accomplished something in such little time. I love dishpan hands. I love to rewind my day replaying the best moments. I love being reminded of my mother standing before the very same sink washing dishes. 

And now I've finally realized why she loved doing the dishes. She was able to steal away a few moments to herself where she knew her kids wouldn't bother her for fear of being made to swap places. Perhaps she, too, loved to wander in her mind and simply allow herself to be absorbed in a chore. Maybe she even loved her own dishpan hands.

So, yes, I just did the dishes and now I'm going to bed...where I very well might dream about a kitchen big enough to have a dishwasher that isn't me!