Years ago, when I was still on Facebook (so…many years ago) an acquaintance posted a story about being away from their apartment for an extended period and coming back to a mess left by their subletter. They made a point to call out that it was obvious that the subletter didn’t wash the bottoms of the dishes. Any bottoms.
I had literally never considered washing the bottom of a dish. Ever.
We had dishwashers when I was growing up. First, it was one we would roll from the end of the counter and hook up to the sink. My grandmother had that kind as well. Later, we had a built-in one. All through college, all through my time in Seattle, even my first apartment in New York—dishwashers. It wasn’t until I moved to Astoria that I had to wash dishes by hand. (Spoiled.)
It had never occurred to me, until that Facebook post, to wash the bottom of the dishes.
Once I realized I should have been washing the bottoms of the dishes the whole time, a panic spread through my body. My stomach dropped. I got a chill. And also felt hot at the same time.
You see, in general, I fancied myself a good roommate. Very good, in fact. I tried to keep my stuff clean and organized. I liked to hole-up in my room. I was always considering the amount of noise I was making. I offered a listening ear when needed. I told jokes. I supported my roommates’ projects as much as possible. I shared baked goods. I always paid rent on time. See? Good.
So, to be confronted with a way in which I may not, in fact, be a good roommate threw me for a loop.. It’s a silly thing to have immediate anxiety about but I did. I spiraled. A whole series of questions flashed across my brain: Have I ever washed the bottom of a dish? Did any of my other roommates wash the bottoms of the dishes? Did they notice that I didn’t? How many of them wanted to say something to me but never actually said anything? Do the bottoms of dishes get that dirty? Is this something I can blame my parents for? Am I just a disgusting, careless human?
Being considered an inconvenience in any way is a panic trigger for me. Of course, as a bigger issue, that is something to work through in therapy. Which is not here. Here we’re talking about the fact that I had no idea it was expected that you wash the bottom of dishes.
From that moment on, I made a very conscious effort to wash the underside of every plate, bowl, glass, pan that I came across. Well, that was already in the sink. I didn’t go out of my way or anything but I did add it to my dish washing routine. And doing so, I figured, restored my good roommate gold star.
Most of my anxiety questions will never be answered. But I can tell you one thing. I’m…still not always great at getting the dishes completely clean.
The dishes are done every night; I have a hard time sleeping if I know there are dishes in the sink. And then, in the morning, I put them all away. It’s literally an important part of my morning routine. If there aren’t any dishes to put away, I’m thrown off. Even if I eat out or something in the evening, I’ll probably still use and wash at least one dish so there is something to put away in the morning. That makes me a creature of habit, I think.
Sometimes, when I’m putting those dishes away, a little something will catch my eye. Is that? …it is. It’s crumbs I didn’t manage to get off the fork, a smudge I’d forgotten in a bowl.
I’ve lived alone for almost four full years now, so I’m not worried about grossing out anyone else or putting someone in a weird position. Since I live alone, I didn’t actually have to bring this up at all. Sure, a friend of mine once asked if I had eaten cornflakes out of the mug I gave her but beyond that, I could have literally never told anyone about this. Ever. And yet, I’m writing about it; it’s getting its very own newsletter.
My fascination with this trait, I think, is this: how is it possible to work so consciously at something and still be bad at it?
Seems like a solid question to me. If not a little bit of a passive aggressive one. For myself. Normally, here’s where I would turn this rambly missive into some sort of metaphor for a big life lesson. Be kind to yourself! You’re only human! Human observation is fallible! Exclamation point!
Exclamation point! is all I’ve got for you. And for me. I’d like to say being much more discerning about my dish washing habits is now second nature. But I’d be lying. I looked closely at a fork earlier and realized that I missed a little bit of something. So, I guess, some things never change? That’s the lesson?
I think, probably, the moral of the story is that the smallest things are the things you’ll think about the most. The smallest changes should be the easiest ones to implement and yet, are often the hardest ones to remain consistent with. The smallest issues are the ones that will stick with you for the longest.
Okay, no, I’ve got it. The lesson is this: there are some things you can work on forever and never fully succeed at. (Oh, that sounds depressing.) …and that’s okay! We are only human. We can only hold so many things in our brain at one time. Gotta just keep try(p)ing.
Alright, there are dishes in my sink. That means there’s a good washing-up to be done.
It never ceases to amaze me where anxiety likes to show up.
THANK YOU for reading. Very seriously, thank you. If you’d like to learn more about the newsletter, here’s my About page. It’s about…me…and this…newsletter.
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For what it’s worth I’ve also never considered washing the bottom of a dish. Like maybe I’m giving a full rinse under the water sure! But like scrub? Nah. So there’s also a lesson here in you’re not alone in your human-ness? Or there’s more to life than the bottoms of dishes? Or maybe it’s just that I, too, am disgusting. Either way.