I take no joy in dishes or other people’s misery, well mostly on the latter.
I had a professor who was prone to taking her narcolepsy medication inconsistently and was also prone to getting derailed from the lecture. When both events happen at the same time we got fantastic tangential lectures ending in real life advice. I still remember much of her germain thoughts on English literature, (more specifically Middlemarch, Virginia Woolf’s Corpus, and the author/poet Anne Michaels), but what I remember most were the stories from her own life.
Paraphrased from one lecture that was spun far away from Styron’s novel Sophie’s Choice:
“You know what was the last straw for me?” The class started looking around; we knew this lecture was going down a path that was not on the syllabus. “Do you know?” She leaned on a desk and started moving her arms as though she was brushing her teeth. “Well do you?” She smiled and paused for a few moments as though remembering something happy. “You see the problem was he liked to squeeze the toothpaste from any damn place on the tube.” Blowing a raspberry she grotesquely mimed somebody squeezing a tube of toothpaste. “I liked to squeeze from the bottom of the tube. There isn’t really any other sensible way. It’s quick, efficient, and …” She drifted off for a moment . “and, AND, you know what my therapist said years after the divorce?” As in Jurassic Park, we did not move for fear that the T-Rex would zero in on us. Her nostrils flared as she inhaled for an inordinate amount of time. “Well, WELL, she said 'Why didn’t you buy two tubes of toothpaste?”
Our teacher laughed and continued, "Divorce, breakups and the like are terrible. If you find somebody good, buy two tubes of toothpaste, or two sponges, or work out the everyday problems because it is just not worth going though. Nobody is perfect and your love will definitely be wrong about all sorts of ways to do things. What I’m saying is… let it go. Figure out some way to agree to live with somebody and talk about the compromises you make for each other. " “Now where were we?”
I still hold some of her life advice in my head. My spouse and I own two tubes of toothpaste, though that’s because one is a prescription. We both do the dishes, and I force myself to do the dishes whenever I can because I hate doing them. When I feel like I’m irritated at how we do some required domestic task, I remember that what truly matters is that how the tiny stuff is done doesn’t matter as long as it gets done. We love living our life, together and tiny irritations aren’t worth conflict. What is worth significant conflict, nothing that I have found yet.
I get wrapped up in my own thoughts constantly, and I have to remind myself that I am no mind reader, and neither is anybody else.
One of my kids just woke up from a nap and I am off to do the dishes.