There are dishes in the sink again
An essay that is about dishes but also about being a writer and also probably capitalism
For the last month, I’ve been having trouble putting dishes into the dishwasher. Instead they pile up, filling my small sink with a Jenga stack of dishes and bowls and cutlery that seems poised to fall over at any time. I’ve been busy. Too busy (or busy-feeling) to open the dishwasher every time I have a dirty dish and put it straight inside instead of leaving it to languish in the sink until I have time to complete the task of moving the now more numerous dishes from one place to another.
I don’t know why this always happens.
It always happens when I am overwhelmed.
If you want to know the state of my life or my mind—are the two separate? I’m not sure—you only need to see my apartment. For a month there’s been clutter everywhere. My single dining table has so many books on it that I’ve been eating in front of the television at the coffee table. Each of my four dining chairs has a coat draped over the back of it. My shoes are piled in front of the furniture I bought specifically because it stores shoes away off of the floor.
Recently, I’ve been going out of town a lot. The trips are all for fun. They involve going to beautiful places with people who I love and taking back memories of joyful moments. But it has compressed the time when I’m back home. If I’m away for four days, the three days of the week when I am home are full. I want to see the people I didn’t see when I was gone. There’s laundry to do, bills to pay, 1099s to collect, groceries to buy so I don’t spend money I don’t have on delivery. Because writing does pay but not well or in a way you can count on (I’ve had a finished draft of an essay waiting to be published for over a month that I will not get paid for until it does), I have a part-time job at a restaurant. After my trips, I work all three nights that I’m home again and fill in everything else I have to do with the blank space that’s left over. I write, I exercise, I try to read. I do not put the dishes directly into the dishwasher.
There’s a term called “revenge bedtime procrastination” that describes the habit people have of spending too much time on their phone or playing video games or other unproductive but mildly satisfying things you can do while half-asleep in lieu of going to bed. It happens when people haven’t had enough free time during their days. The only time they can carve out for themselves involves scrolling through social media and so they do. Then they wind up overtired the next day, still lacking in fun, and slower to get the things done they need to do.
The thing about not putting dishes directly into the dishwasher is that it turns what would have been a single-step process into two. It feels like a life-hack but actually creates more work for yourself.
When I got back from my most recent trip, to New Orleans for Mardi Gras, I felt a weight lift. I’m still over scheduled but at least I’m largely in town for the next month. I’ve been making progress with the books I want to read—moving them off the dining table and onto shelves or back to the library where they came from. I’m down to one chair covered in a coat. Is this because February has been unseasonably warm, sunny and in the 50s and sometimes 60s and therefore does not require so many coats? Yes. But it still counts as progress.
I made breakfast this morning and briefly put the dishes in the sink, then looked at my empty dishwasher sitting right next to it and moved the dishes over. This is progress too.
It feels calmer now. I’ve discussed with friends my need to have a few days where nothing (not even a fun activity) is on the schedule. I want to take long meandering walks without worrying I have to be back by such-and-such time. I recognized that this is something that will never happen if I don’t block it out for myself. The state of my apartment is a sign that it’s something I desperately need. I’m checking my calendar for days I can request off of work and will write PLAN NOTHING in all caps, repeating in the colors I use to code errands, friends, work, and home (this is how I organize my life).
The kitchen in my apartment is small and too tightly packed to let clutter spill over the way it has been. I’ve been juggling everything so far but many days I feel like crying for no reason. People often talk about the trap of having it all. Is this what it looks like? I have so many things that bring me joy, that matter to me, that I can’t possibly make time for it all. On top of this, I’m still trying to teach myself French. My Duolingo streak is just barely hanging on.
I’m happy with the life that I’ve carved out for myself. Happy that even if not all of my income comes from the work I consider to be my career, that at least I don’t have a 9-5. I rarely work in the evenings. Mornings and afternoons are the most creative time for me and when I thought about giving that time up just to make a living, I felt like someone had weighed me down with cement. I value the work of being a writer. I feel good making choices to prioritize that even if it means worrying about the bills when the restaurant has had a few slow days. I just wish writing could value me more in return.
When I finish writing this I will gather the dishes left around the apartment and put them directly in the dishwasher. It won’t fix the problem I have which is, at its root, that I want or need to do more things in my twenty-four hours a day than I am able. But it will give me space to breathe. Sometimes that’s enough to keep going.
I just finished reading James Baldwin’s Giovanni’s Room which was beautiful and short and I want to come back to again. I really loved Hella’s character who didn’t come in until nearly the end but despite the narrator thinking she was flighty and airheaded had some very poignant things to say about being a woman, particularly in the 1950s.
Over the weekend, I went to Cannon Beach to do a talk for Under the Henfluence at the library. I had a wonderful time with the small but mighty group of 15 people who decided to stay inside on a beautiful Saturday afternoon (and the last beautiful day for a week). The bookseller from Cannon Beach Books who was there to sell copies of the new paperback said they had to order more of them because they sold out after putting the book on display at the register to promote the talk. It is chicken season! I’d like to think of a cute promotion to do for Mother’s Day because there are so many chicken ladies out there and I think it would be fun.
I have more books to read this week, a commissioned essay to write, and some work to do for what I hope will become my second book. I’d love to write more opinion pieces and essays which I seem to have more drafts of than I have time to pitch.
No free days this week to meander but maybe I’ll manage to make it happen next week, she said for the umpteenth time.
Because all writers have a never-ending hope of finding ways to make writing financially sustainable, I’ve opened a Bookshop.org affiliate page. If you buy any of the books I mention here, I will get a small commission.
Loved this read! And I love the small mental shift of putting the dishes in the sink, pausing, looking back and then placing the dishes in the dishwasher. As someone prone to clutter in a very small apartment with no storage, I find that my mind will feel just as cluttered as my environment is. I've started asking myself if the tasks I dread doing (which includes washing and putting away dishes) could be done in 2 minutes. If it can, then I'll do it. If it can't, then I'll chip away at it for 2 minutes and then walk away. That tends to keep me from procrastinating at everything. :) Hope you're able to meander and have schedule-free-plan-free days soon!
Also here for the book recommendations! ❤️