Going back to work has reminded me of how much mental energy my job sapped from me
I think that sometimes my brain gets tired of its own absurdity.
I got side-tracked booking hotels and whatnot last night, and I forgot to wash the dishes. As a result, I had two days' worth of dishes piled up this evening when I finally set up shop by the sink to deal with them.
I hate washing dishes. I have always hated washing dishes. But that's my job here, so I've built up coping mechanisms to help me deal with it. Part of the mechanism is to shut off my brain and fall into a routine which turns the experience into something more Zen-like than chore-like.
The task of washing dishes becomes more of a ritual, where I can just let myself function like an automaton and mechanically churn through the chores in the proper order without wasting any brain power on the mindless routine. And when I call it a ritual, I'm not straying too far into the realm of exaggeration.
The cutlery and cutting boards always go into the sink first to soak. While those are doing their thing, I wash the next class of dishes which get dried and put away as I go. Next, I wash the things that go into the drainer to air dry, before I finally wash and dry the cutlery and put it away.
There is some logic to the way I do it. The dish towel only has so much capacity to absorb water, and I need to reserve some of that to dry the silverware at the end. The things that go into the drainer tend to either have a lot of surface area to dry (cutting boards) or have a lot of awkward lips and crevices that are awkward to dry.
And the little Pyrex dish that atara uses as a spoon rest when she's cooking. That goes into the drainer. Why? Because that's where it goes. That's where I've always put it; it's part of the ritual. I don't know why. I did it once, and so now that's where it goes.
It was one of the last things that I washed this evening, and once I had rinsed it, I noticed that the drainer was full. I spent about fifteen seconds trying to Jenga it in with the other things in the rack, but I couldn't find an optimal placement. Then my brain came out of its stupor and got mad.
Brain: Dude, what are you doing?
Me: I'm trying to put the spoon dish in the rack, but there's no good solution to making it fit.
Brain: Why are you trying to put it in the rack?
Me: Because that's where it goes.
Brain: Why? What purpose is there in air-drying this particular dish?
Me: It's always gone in the rack.
Brain: Dude ... just hear me out. I know we don't do much together these days, but humour me. Have you considered, say, not putting it in the rack? I mean, don't you literally have a dish towel slung over your shoulder?
Me: What are you getting at?
Brain: Have you considered, oh - I dunno - just drying the dish and putting it back in its drawer.
Me: ... hey, you're pretty smart. We should hang out more.
Brain: Do you know why I don't hang out with you? Because you just spent almost a quarter of a minute trying to shoehorn a little Pyrex dish into a rack where it won't fit because it never occurred to you to just dry it and put it away.
I got side-tracked booking hotels and whatnot last night, and I forgot to wash the dishes. As a result, I had two days' worth of dishes piled up this evening when I finally set up shop by the sink to deal with them.
I hate washing dishes. I have always hated washing dishes. But that's my job here, so I've built up coping mechanisms to help me deal with it. Part of the mechanism is to shut off my brain and fall into a routine which turns the experience into something more Zen-like than chore-like.
The task of washing dishes becomes more of a ritual, where I can just let myself function like an automaton and mechanically churn through the chores in the proper order without wasting any brain power on the mindless routine. And when I call it a ritual, I'm not straying too far into the realm of exaggeration.
The cutlery and cutting boards always go into the sink first to soak. While those are doing their thing, I wash the next class of dishes which get dried and put away as I go. Next, I wash the things that go into the drainer to air dry, before I finally wash and dry the cutlery and put it away.
There is some logic to the way I do it. The dish towel only has so much capacity to absorb water, and I need to reserve some of that to dry the silverware at the end. The things that go into the drainer tend to either have a lot of surface area to dry (cutting boards) or have a lot of awkward lips and crevices that are awkward to dry.
And the little Pyrex dish that atara uses as a spoon rest when she's cooking. That goes into the drainer. Why? Because that's where it goes. That's where I've always put it; it's part of the ritual. I don't know why. I did it once, and so now that's where it goes.
It was one of the last things that I washed this evening, and once I had rinsed it, I noticed that the drainer was full. I spent about fifteen seconds trying to Jenga it in with the other things in the rack, but I couldn't find an optimal placement. Then my brain came out of its stupor and got mad.
Brain: Dude, what are you doing?
Me: I'm trying to put the spoon dish in the rack, but there's no good solution to making it fit.
Brain: Why are you trying to put it in the rack?
Me: Because that's where it goes.
Brain: Why? What purpose is there in air-drying this particular dish?
Me: It's always gone in the rack.
Brain: Dude ... just hear me out. I know we don't do much together these days, but humour me. Have you considered, say, not putting it in the rack? I mean, don't you literally have a dish towel slung over your shoulder?
Me: What are you getting at?
Brain: Have you considered, oh - I dunno - just drying the dish and putting it back in its drawer.
Me: ... hey, you're pretty smart. We should hang out more.
Brain: Do you know why I don't hang out with you? Because you just spent almost a quarter of a minute trying to shoehorn a little Pyrex dish into a rack where it won't fit because it never occurred to you to just dry it and put it away.