The Hours: Near-Quarter Life Crisis Edition
Sunday, March 25, 2007
I’ve found god in dishwashing. There’s something about turning inanimate objects from slimy to screeching clean that just does it for me. I like it when my hands are all wet and soapy. I like lemony-fresh in liquid form. I like handling slippery glass. I like rinsing, watching suds scurry down plates and bowls and spoons and forks to reveal
It started at 2 this morning, when I decided to cook myself some cheesy scrambled eggs. While I’d normally just dump the utensils in the sink because I lack a conscience that way, I decided to wash them as the eggs cooled. Had the Beta Band playing in the background, and I have to admit that it is perfect domestic chore music. I found such great satisfaction standing over that sink and eradicating any trace of my early morning actions.
It happened again just a little while ago, when I decided to wash up my lunchtime mess. I had Nine Inch Nails as a soundtrack this time around, and it is equally apt dishwashing music. Everyone must try scrubbing away at slop and grit while Trent Reznor sings about him wanting to fuck you like an animal.
I guess when you don’t want to sleep because your nightmares are on a roll and you don’t want to stay awake because the memories that fuel these nightmares are on a roll, the best thing you can do is numb yourself out with domesticity.
posted by marguerite @ 3:48 PM
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