Should towels bend?
I did the dishes today.
What's so notable about this that I'd break my long fast from blogging to talk about it? Well, these dishes hadn't been done since before my last blog post. Scroll back a bit and let that sink in, if you will.
There were ants, but they were dead, the mold killed them, big black swaths of it as thick as the pieces of broken glass. That struck me as ironic somehow, that the ants came to eat the food residue, but the food residue turned into mold and in turn ate them, or something like that. It was all clear to me when I was doing those sinister laughs over the sink.
The sad part is, I don't even have that many dishes. Two plates, three glasses, a couple bowls, three mugs, a handful of each prestige class of silverware, and some pots. Where did I go so wrong? I think if I had more dishes, or maybe if I ever used them, I would have felt more inclined to lean in and peer over the lip of the sink. Eventually, the smell led me over - and indeed as I shuffled the dishes apart, the smell was prodigious.
It's all submerged deep within a mixture equal parts bleach, dish soap, and water right now, after a thorough scrubbing, and it will receive another later tonight. The stuff had even stained my prehistoric sink - none of this new-fangled stainless steel for me, just ancient ceramic patched with what may have once been caulk but now comes off like powder if I scrub over it too hard. (And I do scrub hard, "doing dishes" is the pretty phrase we use for sanding the heavy-duty char off the pots and trays with steel wool.)
Doesn't my negligence of the dishes seem insanely irresponsible? I was surprised by it myself as I was cleaning them. Unfortunately, I forsee this happening again, in repetition, and without end.
In the "good 'ol days," I scraped by doing as little as possible to pay rent for whomever I was living with, so that I could unleash the brunt of my time and energy on my own project: Forumwar.
Now I find myself with a full-time job, walking across town every day to and from work, doing laundry every night because I have a single pair of work clothes and not enough energy to walk across town and spend on a pair of slacks. I'm exhausted, and sometimes running a bit ragged, and I've cut back work on my own project only to when I can get a few days off so that I can concentrate on it completely. Even then, I'm still a bit overwhelmed - I haven't walked these dogs in weeks, and I come home just too tired to give them any attention.
What's so notable about this that I'd break my long fast from blogging to talk about it? Well, these dishes hadn't been done since before my last blog post. Scroll back a bit and let that sink in, if you will.
There were ants, but they were dead, the mold killed them, big black swaths of it as thick as the pieces of broken glass. That struck me as ironic somehow, that the ants came to eat the food residue, but the food residue turned into mold and in turn ate them, or something like that. It was all clear to me when I was doing those sinister laughs over the sink.
The sad part is, I don't even have that many dishes. Two plates, three glasses, a couple bowls, three mugs, a handful of each prestige class of silverware, and some pots. Where did I go so wrong? I think if I had more dishes, or maybe if I ever used them, I would have felt more inclined to lean in and peer over the lip of the sink. Eventually, the smell led me over - and indeed as I shuffled the dishes apart, the smell was prodigious.
It's all submerged deep within a mixture equal parts bleach, dish soap, and water right now, after a thorough scrubbing, and it will receive another later tonight. The stuff had even stained my prehistoric sink - none of this new-fangled stainless steel for me, just ancient ceramic patched with what may have once been caulk but now comes off like powder if I scrub over it too hard. (And I do scrub hard, "doing dishes" is the pretty phrase we use for sanding the heavy-duty char off the pots and trays with steel wool.)
Doesn't my negligence of the dishes seem insanely irresponsible? I was surprised by it myself as I was cleaning them. Unfortunately, I forsee this happening again, in repetition, and without end.
In the "good 'ol days," I scraped by doing as little as possible to pay rent for whomever I was living with, so that I could unleash the brunt of my time and energy on my own project: Forumwar.
Now I find myself with a full-time job, walking across town every day to and from work, doing laundry every night because I have a single pair of work clothes and not enough energy to walk across town and spend on a pair of slacks. I'm exhausted, and sometimes running a bit ragged, and I've cut back work on my own project only to when I can get a few days off so that I can concentrate on it completely. Even then, I'm still a bit overwhelmed - I haven't walked these dogs in weeks, and I come home just too tired to give them any attention.