today started as the kind of day when my insurmountable pile of dishes didn’t bother me so much. It seemed less a dramatic confirmation of the fact that I will never ever manage to be up to speed in life (i.e. happily ever after is still some way off, forever out of reach, forever just about to happen) and more a simple fact of logistics.
Wash some bowls and there’s half the amount left to do.
The day ended with half the spaghetti pouring into the dishwater. I stared at it and thought about how you’re not meant to cry over spilt foodstuffs and then I thought how you only ever really spill foodstuffs when you’re ready to have a good cry about something.
I didn’t cry.