In some ways, I despise it. It means that I have to go into ‘mindless idiot’ mode because otherwise I freak at having to spend about an hour doing nothing useful at all. Except washing dishes. But that’s not useful. Either ‘mindless idiot’ mode or sort-out-my-head-and-psychoanalyze-myself mode. Which isn’t always that bad. I actually like it sometimes. That, plus the fact that I get to keep my hands in scaldingly hot water. Which is a delightful thing in winter.

But in my state of numbness today, it was unbearable. It’s like my mind was totally blank. I can’t bear blankness. When I’m numb, I have to be listening to something or reading something or something. I can’t be alone in quiet. Then I break down. I psychoanalyze myself so bad. At least when I psychoanalyze myself here, I write it down, so I can reread it and come to some conclusion. When I wash dishes I wander around in circles. Through a haze of thoughts and emotions. But whatever.

Now, the good things about being forced to wash dishes… um… like I said, you get to keep your hands in hot water, which is good in winter…um… I get to organize my thoughts, which is sometimes good. Washing dishes is also good for…. um… practicing ventriloquism (Something in the lines of Dinnerplate says to Fancy Silverdish “So what’s a nice plate like you doing in a sink like this….’). Yeah. Lame. Lamest of lame. But that’s what doing too many dishes does to you… *spooky music starts playing* ….You have been warned… *spooky music stops because I tripped over the power cable*

Your Local Dish-Washing Sarcastic Poet