Amidst a Sponge and Dishwashing Liquid

You know how there are times when we do something, like a chore, that doesn't really require 100% of your mind? And how in those times, you can actually think about other stuffs?

That happens to me, always. Thrice everyday. Sometimes even more, because I get to wash the dishes in between mealtimes. But yes, every time my hands work mechanically and automatically to clean the dishes we've used, the freer part of my mind wanders.

Sometimes, I think about myself. I think about my personality, for some reason. I think about how I would introduce myself to someone with a true intention of getting to know me.

I am an independent person who, on special times like the weekends, tend to take a backseat while my parents man my life. Because it's one of those cherish-able moments when I can just watch as my life unfolds in front of me, not minding if I'm not the one making the decisions, if I'm not weighing my options, or if I'm not thinking about answers.

Other times, I think about the people around me. My parents, my brother and his son, my sister, and how their lives are in great connection to mine.

I wish my brother would learn to close the door behind him when he goes out of the house. I wish my sister won't text too much, especially if we're supposed to be talking about her homeworks. I wish my parents are here to tell me what to do with the many enquiries of our neighbors. I wish this lot don't keep on taking for granted the fact that I'm always around to fix things after and for them.

There are also times when I simply imagine. I conjure images of myself. I try to place myself in other peoples' shoes. What if I'm the one in their position? What would I do? Or sometimes, I imagine the things I would do and the reactions I would have if I suddenly find myself doing and having and going to places and things I've always dreamed of.

Would I not listen to Anna if I were Sara Fitzgerald? Would I not leave Tom if I were Summer? How would I deal with my son if he fought with his sister over Oreos like those mothers I see on television? If I get to Paris, first thing I'd look for is a French tutor. And then a chef I could befriend and learn about all those French cuisines. Of course, I'd go looking at the mannequins of all them famous designers. If I ever get my novel published, I'd sign with my first and last name. Not with the middle-first name because it'd be too long. And if I ever get interviewed about that book, I'd tell the world how I never really thought I could finish it.

And then at times, I veer away from my present and into the past. Sue me for that, because yes, in as much as I don't want to I think about what-ifs. I think about what would have happened if I decided on the other option and not the one I picked.

What if I went to my mother's alma mater rather than UP? What if I didn't turn my back against my best friend? What if I didn't become friends with all my friends now? How would my life be if I lasted more than a month and a half in that wretched job?

These are funny thoughts, I know. And this is a funny habit. Especially for someone who's got a whole lot other times when she can think deeply than when she's doing the dishes.

But there's something assuring in being aware that, while my thoughts run wild and sometimes embarrassing, I only have the dirty plates and the blank blue wall in front of me as witnesses. And that somehow, when I turn the faucet off, my thoughts would break in mid-thought, snapping me back to my reality.

It's as good a cross between the imaginative world and the real one as any, I guess.

Try it sometime. There're a wide array of choices, like while doing the laundry or ironing your clothes. Give your mind a break.