Just a Second

The washer is full of clothes I need to hang up
The dryer is broken
They need to be hung up before they smell
I’ve washed the same load 3 days in a row
I said this time would be the last
But I’m tired because
The dishes are overflowing

There are clothes everywhere, nowhere to hang them up you know

I have to get the dishes done because I can’t cook anything
I’m using mugs for sips of water, that’s all that’s left
Where the hell did all our spoons go, anyway?

If I hang up more clothes I should put the others away first, because my
bedroom is just a mix of piles—dirty and clean clothes, just thinking about it
gives me anxiety

The drawer is full of butter knives and zero spoons and the sink is a carefully layered game of
dish Jenga and I swear if I don’t clean them I won’t be able to sleep

If I lay night after night on piles of clean clothes, how long before they’re dirty?

But the floors
But
The
Floors

Why is there sand? Where does the sand come from? Does everything just feel like sand when
atop cheap hardwood? It sticks to the bottoms of my feet—I wash them 3 times in the master
bath tub because the feeling of it is intolerable. I could wear socks, probably, but they feel dirty
after a while—too dirty to be on the couch, where I sit with my blanket—the debris, the germs,
crawl up my socks and onto the blankets WHERE MY FACE TOUCHES AND I WOULD WASH
THEM MORE IF

The dryer was working and the bed wasn’t already full of clothes, the ladders to
my bookshelves (majestic—I’m still in debt paying for them—oh fuck don’t think
about finances) draped with drying towels so you can’t even see the books.

The dishes didn’t pile—CHRIST it’s only been one day how many dishes
do we use? And
Where did all this sand come from?

Have to pass the dishes to reach the bedroom to see the laundry to wash the feet only to leave
wet feet prints on the floors that need to be washed and everything is so dirty and filth is
crawling all over my body and I’m screaming I’m screamingIamScreaming

Oh
I’m sorry, I wasn’t listening
What did you say?
To the therapist

I am one of the most difficult people to be in a relationship with

And what do you think your husband would say about that
Of course he’d agree—he’s the other one

Thanks folks, that’s all for me tonight, but feel free
to catch me at my other showings, running
perpetually, headlong into oblivion

 

“Washing Dishes” by Kim Siever is licensed under CC PDM 1.0

Tiffany Meuret

Tiffany is a writer, mother, and OCD sufferer from Phoenix, Arizona. Her work has been published or is forthcoming with Shoreline of Infinity, MoonPark Review, Collective Unrest, Ellipsis Zine, and others. Find her on Twitter @TMeuretBooks. Talking points are good coffee and small dogs.

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