It never ceases to amaze me how a domicile can be pristine upon exiting in the morning and, by day’s end, how it can be deluged with an assortment of detritus.
The feeling of living in chaos and clutter is only compounded the next morning. The alarm goes off, you shuffle sleepy-eyed into the kitchen to make coffee and piles of…stuff!…greet your tired orbs.
A sink once sparkling now sits half-filled with murky, gray cold water that reveals rim-stained cups and saucers. The counter as well is littered with an odd assortment of glasses and silverware, all harvesting a film of food residue. Pots sit on the stove, their contents concealed by a soiled lid . Crumbs populate the floor in various configurations and, even though there were only two adults and one child in the house during the nocturne, the scene appears as though a vast soiree had ensued.
How? How is it possible that so many dishes and glasses, forks and spoons were used last night?!
Reluctantly you plunge a hand down into the grayish water, fumbling for the drain, releasing the foul and fetid water. The stew of filmy water gurgles and escapes, bubbling as it disappears into unknown caliginous depths.
The coffee brewed, you escape to the living room to watch the morning news, eyes averted from the mountain of grime.
After your 3rd cup of joe you sigh, slowly rise, and enter the scullery. Grabbing a still damp sponge, you scrub away. Soon, the end of your toil is nigh. The sink once again gleams, with nary a speck of food in sight.
Groomed, dressed, and ready to go, you glance around the kitchen once more. ‘Tonight’, you say to yourself, ‘will be different. I will do the dishes before slipping into sweet slumber. I will do the dishes….’
Copyright, Paul Grignon, 2012, All Rights Reserved.