Small epiphanies arise now and then, and I had one last evening, whilst doing the dishes. I'll share it with you ...
Those of you who have had such KP duty have probably noticed a certain phenomenon, especially after a meal whereupon a lot of folks chowed down, such as a family gathering. You wind up at the sink, your elbows sloshing in the hot soapy water, scrubbing and racking pots, pans, plates glasses, flatware, maybe even the gravy bowl. Wash, rack, or into the dishwasher if you have one, to sterilize the "pre-washed" dishes.
Doesn't "pre-washed" mean "dirty?" I think what they mean is "half-assed washed."
Um. The supply of dirty bowls and whatnot just keeps on comin' and they fill the washer or drainboard rack or both, and after what seems like a really long time, it looks as if you have done them all. Hallelujah.
So you turn off the water, squeeze out the sponge, and start to dry your hands, when, lo! there's a coffee cup you missed, right there next to the toaster, in plain sight. Been a snake, it'd bit you.
Okay, so you grab the glass and wash and rinse it. Done.
But–no. Then there are the cheese plates and crawfish-handled knives that somebody forgot to collect from the sideboard, so you you grab those and truck back into the kitchen. That cheese has been sitting out all evening and looks dead, but maybe the dog will eat it ...
By now, you might laugh and figure this is going to be like one of those Terminator movies where you think the thing is dead, but you know it isn't really, so you make another pass, and you aren't all that surprised when you find the plate your little nephew put on the floor under the table for the dog to eat his broccoli. Gotcha!
This can go on for some time, but eventually, all the wayward dishware is finally collected and you are really done. Or at least you aren't going to look for any more, fuck it, it can wait until tomorrow if it's hiding that well.
Sometimes, he says, making an allegorical simile, life is like washing dishes. You think you have things all cleaned up, and it turns out, you don't quite.
Words of semi-wisdom, from the sage of Beaverton ...