Tuesday, April 05, 2011

Stream of Thought

My dishwasher's still broken.

This equates to an extra 45 minutes of standing at the sink every day in order to stay "on top of" the dishes and pans and glasses (so many glasses! How many cups of water can 3 kids drink in 1 day? Seriously! I wash about 20 cups a day. For 5 people!).

And I know I shouldn't bitch about it. I am grateful that I have over 20 glasses and mugs and cups from which my family can drink the plentiful, clean, running water. I am grateful that my kids LIKE water to begin with and not just pop or juice. But do you know how ridiculous I feel, soaping and scrubbing and rinsing 20 glasses that only had water in them to begin with?!?

The tree outside my kitchen window is starting to show signs of spring. Not buds or leaves, but definitely a more... "spring-ish" look to it. Maybe it's all the finches that are hopping around on its branches, searching for the bird feeder that fell off last autumn. Poor finches. Their local hot spot for thistle seed is currently undergoing renovations. It'll probably take us another 2 years to put up a new hanging bag of seed, guys...

All this extra time spent with my arms in the hot foam that only generic dish soap can create causes my mind to wander and ponder; just think about how many hundreds of millions of women who have washed and soaped and scoured their own families' dishes throughout the existence of mankind. It's such a basic chore. So necessary but unloved. Though I'd take standing at the sink, looking out at the frustrated and hungry birds any day over the bending and lifting of loading the damn washer and dryer. We can't even have a clothesline in our subdivision. It goes against the codes that I knew about when we signed the papers, but I wonder if I'd use one if we could? Just having the rule against it makes the idea of hanging the wash out to dry seem... exotic. Can't you just picture me snapping freshly laundered towels and t-shirts as I expertly clip them to a taught line in the gentle breezes? All while my children race about the yard (in slow motion, naturally) with oversized bubble-wands and those ribbons on sticks that you see on the Olympics.

Do they still do the Rhythmic gymnastics? It used to fascinate me...
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