Dear Sylas,
Enjoy doing the dishes.
I’ve been thinking for a while about the person you’ll become, and my influence on how happy that person will be. I’ve been wondering about life lessons, and what kind I’ll be passing on to you. Your father might be tempted to joke about not listening to the life lessons of a 24-year-old writer/bum and that’s a fair point, but it doesn’t keep me from thinking about it. And that’s the first one:
Enjoy doing the dishes.
Try to find pleasure in the little, trifling things that people allow themselves to be upset by. Banish others from the kitchen, listen to your favorite music and rinse at your own pace. Throw a towel over your shoulder to intermittently dry your hands on. Spritz lemon into the dish-soap holder and watch your fingers wrinkle. Say you’re welcome to your mom when she thanks you. Know that the soreness in your back is small and temporary.
It’s a strange thing to ask you: to enjoy something you may not enjoy in the least bit. How can this ‘life lesson’ be imparted if your tastes, that enigmatic, whyless arrangement of what we love and hate, decides for you whether or not you like doing the dishes?
All I can say is that if you enjoy the clean up, making a mess is all the more satisfying.


