On Washing The Dishes

Just after I graduated college (the first time), I moved to Waco to live with some of my friends there. They already had an apartment, so I just moved into the place where they lived, after I’d found a job in town. I, through my roommates, came to be friends with a girl named Katherine. When I left our cozy apartment in Waco to move to Camp Eagle (in order to convince Zack to marry me, which totally worked), Katherine wound up taking my place in the apartment.

Katherine had one particular quirk about her that made her a fantastic roommate. After I moved out, I learned that my ‘replacement’ liked to wash dishes to relieve stress. She was a pre-med student at Baylor, and her life was crazy busy. Any time it all got to be too much for her, she would get up from her studying, walk into the kitchen, and wash the dishes. The roommates told her that she was crazy. They didn’t complain, because nobody complains about having the dishes always done, but they thought she was crazy.

I’m not saying that Cold Turkey Day didn’t go well. It was fine. It really was. I will say, however, that I just found myself getting up from my studying, walking into the kitchen, and washing the dishes. I don’t know how I got there, nor do I know why I chose to start doing them. I just did. And while I was in the middle of spot checking my wine glasses, I remembered Katherine and her strange affection for hand-washing the plates, and I finally got it. Dish washing is therapy.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s