Four glasses. Six plates stacked up. These are the dirty dishes. And those are just the ones that won't fit in the sink. I am hungry. But I can't cook any of my food because all the pots are dirty. And I can't wash them because...well I just can't.\ Sometimes, I can't do things. I think sometimes other people don't really understand that. I don't want to let things like dishes and other general life upkeep tasks pile up. But sometimes I just can't do them. I am perfectly physically able. I completely understand what I need to do to perform the task. But I just can't do it. Not all the time. But enough that it impedes progress.
Because sometimes I really need to focus on getting work done, like writing jokes or something. And sometimes I just can't do that if my apartment is a mess. And I have a hard time getting much cleaning done if the sink is full of dishes. So that's why it all comes back to the sink.
I grew up with a dishwasher in my house, so washing dishes is not a thing that I am totally accustomed to doing. But somehow it has become this mental barrier to progress that I've struggled with since I've been out on my own. I try not to blame the dishes too much, though. I am sure if I had a dishwasher, the problem would be something else.
It's Monday now. I work a closing shift tonight, and I probably won't feel like writing later, so I am writing now. It is shiny. Spring. It's free out there. Good weather for driving with the windows down and listening to Phish. There was a period yesterday with the sunshine and the breeze and the Phish that I convinced a part of myself that I was on my way to a Phish concert. It felt really good.
I watched UHF last night and it was really good. Emo Phillips' thumb scene broke me, because I've seen that scene a thousand times, but I've never seen it handled the way Emo does.
I hope to get back to standup next week. I've said that every week for a month, but I really believe it. One of these weeks it will come true.