Writing can be dangerous. You set yourself up for criticism and if there is none, you wonder if you are doing a good job. Ah, such is life.

February 2, 2010

The name of this blog reflects how  I spend my evenings.  Dishwashing is almost a lost art among women thanks to automatic dishwashers and throw away products. Personally, I’ve found solace in a sinkful of soapy water. It gives me time to reflect on the earlier day’s activities, bringing into balance the oncoming night. During the day the double sided sink is the catch all for the nutrition gamut of the household. At the end of the day it becomes the resting place for the final cleansing of both dish and soul. The water and suds piling up. Dirty dishes, cups, glassware, utensils, and pots each taking their turn in the hot  gray water, giving up the caked on, drunk from, smeared on cares of  daily life. Clean again, waiting to take on the next fulfillment of their purpose.

Sometimes I wonder if they dread seeing the cupboard open. With hands reaching toward them, knowing  that they are about to be *used*. But then…that is their purpose. And when they once again set patiently waiting, they no doubt, have a sense of having done their duty. I wish I could always say the same.

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