Thinkin' While Washin'

Yep, been washin' dishes today. Lots uv 'em. I've realized that I'm a bit of a piler when it comes to chores I dislike. For example, ironing. Ironing isn't something that happens weekly at our house. Rather, it happens not quite as frequently as the changing of the seasons. Dishes, if we had more clean options in the cupboard, would probably follow the same schedule. Dishes, I'd say, happen about as often as I sit down to check email (which explains why 1) I haven't responded to the email collecting dust in my inbox and 2) we sometimes eat our cereal with plastic spoons). There are simply some chores I don't like.

Now, vacuuming.. there's a chore I can really wrap my love around. I heart vacuuming. I heart the geometric patterns in the carpet as I finish a room. I heart watching the lint and dirt and sub-atomic carpet bits whooshing up the sucker-shoot. I heart laying on the floor when I'm done, without a care of those sub-atomic bits getting in my hair. Last Christmas, Lui and I pitched our Christmas money together and bought each other one of those robot vacuums. We thought it'd be an incredible time saver. Turns out, we enjoyed watching it work so much that rather than taking 8 minutes to vacuum myself, it was taking 1 hour and 25 minutes to follow the darling thing around! We affectionately called it our 'Pet' and laughed at its antics, like bumping into the plant pot, again...

I'm now back to vacuuming on my own, and I have to say I'm kind of happy about it. I experience great happiness in a clean home. Just not in washing dishes. Or ironing clothes. Or cleaning toilets.

Anyhow, I was thinking while I was washing dishes this afternoon...

There seem to be an alarming number of single, mate-less, shoes lying around in the road. Have you ever noticed this? Especially on the highway. Single, forlorn shoes. If I notice one, I immediately begin the search party for its pair. I've yet to spot a pair. It's only ever been one solitary shoe. It's kind of sad. I've often thought that had I time to write a book, I'd write about my series of postulations concerning the match-less shoes. I doubt anyone would buy the book, but I do think I would enjoy writing it. I've also thought about another topic I'd write about... the relationship between personality type and grocery-store-sample behavior.

I work in the office of a natural foods market, and at the end of our hallway, just bordering the dairy and gluten-free section, stands a daily sample. I've had opportunity to observe countless people and their various sample habits. Sometimes I try to pick out other distinguishing details to help me build a case, such as appearance, mannerisms, clothing, voice, or objects in their carts, hoping to make a connection between personality and habit. I don't know about you, but I think it would make for interesting fodder.

Perhaps another day...

In the meantime, please enjoy this delightful nugget, courtesy of my dearest heart. I've often said that he talks in his sleep. Apparently, he also worries about my whereabouts.

Setting: In the Bonilla's bed, about 4:34 a.m. Ali, sound asleep directly beside Lui, wakes to the following conversation.

Lui: Ali?!! Ali!!! ALI!!!

Ali: Mmmrrrph??

Lui: Ali?

Ali: Yes?
Lui (with much relief and an eyes-closed smile): Oh! I didn't know you were right there!
Ali (with a degree of annoyance): Well, Lui, where else would I be?

Lui: Oh. I don't know.

Ali: Argh.