I confess that I'm not a great dishwasher. I leave something to be desired in terms of efficiency and speed. But I try. The other day I received a complaint that a fork was a little sticky. Lack of force in the friction of the sponge against the metal. I increased the pressure against the cutlery to remove the grease impregnated there.
I don't know if it's a little OCD—it must be—but I have a process for doing the dishes. I start with the dishes, from the shallows to the back, I go to the pots or pans, plastic pots, glasses and, finally, the infamous cutlery. My Achilles heel.
Washing the dishes always makes me empty my mind, as if all the problems in the world are reduced to the amount of detergent you put on the sponge or the water you let out of the faucet. But it is not uncommon for larger thoughts to assail me. One day, a Monday, a full sink day — leftovers from the weekend laziness — the idea hit me that our existence is, for the most part, destined for unimportant things.
For starters, we spend a third of our time sleeping. That is, not living. If you can make it to eighty years old, that's twenty-six years and something on a mattress. Not necessarily in sexual activities, understand.
We waste time in traffic, in the elevator, in queues, in useless conversations, in the shower, waiting for the computer to wake up — anyway, you know what I'm talking about. Really living, in its fullness, consumes little of our time. I'm not one for statistics, but I can guess it's a measly ten percent. Eight years or less.
You might also like:
- 5 phrases people use to manipulate you
- Learn about the domestic effects of quarantine
- Leave your home with your face
- Discover the benefits of meditation
These ideas go through my head when I'm doing the dishes. In addition, of course, to the most common existential doubts, lulled by memories of the existentialist ideas of Sartre or the Little Prince — “you become eternally responsible for those you captivate”. Even Nietzsche appears to me from time to time, saying that what doesn't kill me makes me stronger.
You can say that this phenomenon would be a kind of crockery therapy, a clumsy way of adding value to an everyday activity, let's say boring and minor. That way, it doesn't feel like time goes down the drain.
