I can’t do my dishes. Ever, really. I wouldn’t dare tell you what’s waiting on my sink, growing new ecosystems – or maybe it’s on to universes by now.
I do occasionally wonder just what I stand to gain by this. I’m sure there’s something lame and self-defeating.
The only solution I can think of is to become habitual with it, which brings to mind what an incredibly useful tool habit is. It’s almost like a cheat, a shortcut we have access to for getting a body to do things.
I know that when I was writing 6 hours a day, habit made that possible. It turned writing into something my body craved.
What couldn’t we achieve, if doing became a habit?
Then again, if saving the world requires me to do my dishes, you might want to add some good romance novels to your cachet of tinned food and water.