Phil Does Dishes

Dinner was good. Friends laughed. Friends shared. Friends danced. 

And then Phil went home leaving the home of his friends. 

Home to … the breakfast dishes he didn’t have time to do earlier. 

He soaked the silverware in a large glass to get off the dried oatmeal. Filled up the sauce pan he cooked the oatmeal within. Put the ground flax seed in the fridge, put up the oatmeal as well as the walnuts, dried cranberries and cinnamon stick. Wiped the counter, swept and mopped the floor, then got the oatmeal grunge off of the pan and silverware and then filled the sink with water. He washed the bowl, the glasses, the silverware and cup. 

He looked at his A-11 wrist watch. It was 12:30 am. 

He looked at his kitchen.

“Enlightenment!” he cried.

Everything was where it should be. Everything was clean. It felt zen and perfect. There was a crumb on the counter he missed. He was okay with that. 

“But a working kitchen cannot stay clean,” he said. 

“Life is mess in motion.”

He went to bed calling his dogs.  

5 thoughts on “Phil Does Dishes

      • Yes, I see this in set theory of math and in Godel’s incompleteness. This helps me understand my misunderstanding about “my illusion of central position.” Our inbred expectations seemed programmed for failure, yet when I relax and monitor my environment and try to look at thing without additives, I also feel calm and free. If I have an inate purpose other than the daily ones I think up, I have to admit that my entire existence might be summed up under “sense organ” for something outside my ability to see.

      • “I have to admit that my entire existence might be summed up under “sense organ” for something outside my ability to see.”

        Anything I could say after such a post would be so, so cliche so, I’m just going to stop here.

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