DID SCRUB DADDY SAVE MY LIFE?

I am not saying that Scrub Daddy saved my life, but something has happened, that can not be explained.

"I am a creator, not a maintainer." That's what I would tell myself and anyone who caught glimpse of my chaos. I want to build the thing, make the stuff, experiment and get messy. As if creativity absolves me of the responsibility to clean up after myself. As if there is a mystical pit crew waiting for the honor of cleaning the trail of destruction I create.

Being messy was always my thing, This is an accurate depiction of my childhood bedroom,The mere mention of cleaning was somehow an insult...what? you don't want to look at my piles of garbage? you don't love me.?

So I have never been tidy. But the mess was only Disturbing on occasion. 

That is until the beginning of the pandemic when I slipped into a depression that I have not been able to climb myself out of. For 3 YEARS. Disturbing is an understatement. Unhealthy, inhumane? filthy? disgusting? a biohazard? Ground zero for mutated disease?  That is my kitchen.

Dirty dishes that would stack up for days, now linger weeks, sometimes months.

I didn't have energy for a thing. And I didn't care that I didn't have energy. I was fully unable to take care of myself by any sensible standard and yet. I shuffled thru day after day binging on junkfood, waiting to die. This is NOT a sexy story. And it feels gross to talk about when suffering surrounds us. Akin to complaining when your private jet needs an update. There is a war going on and I am double fisting pizza boo hoo.. pull it together. I could not.

I am aware of the correlation between junkfood and binging and weight gain and obesity and depression. I truly believe a routine of fresh organic nutrient dense food, movement, rest and meaning can cure almost every disorder.  But I did not care. I spit on routine. I felt terrible and terrible for feeling terrible not to mention feeling terrible for feeling terrible about feeling terrible for feeling terrible.

Cleaning up and taking care of ones home is a privilege that most people don't even have the opportunity to experience.  And yet, you can not guilt or shame a person into wellness. and hard as I try, I can not berate myself into doing better. THAT is the stunning mystery of this invisible illness. 

 Sometimes I have a good moment and begrudgingly do the dishes.  The worse I

got, the less that happened. The less that happened, the worse I got. 

Twenty years ago my mother tried her best to encourage me by sharing how her friend loved doing  dishes. "Impossible " I thought to myself. They would take it as a moment of zen and just truly experience the warm water and the smell of the soap. They would do deep breathing and practice gratitude for the meal consumed. It was meditation, they described it as a sensual experience. I rolled my eyes all the way down the street... And then.... enter ....Scrub Daddy.

If you don't know what a Scrub Daddy is, then you should alert your mothership, you have failed assimilation with the humans, or you have just never been shopping. Scrub Daddy sponges are these cute little round smiley face scrubbers. You find them with the sponges in the dish soap aisle. I had always admired them but they seemed like a splurge compared to the yellow and green sponge I have been buying for years.  I could get a whole pack of the old yellow/greens for the cost of just one Scrub Daddy. But one day, when I had too much money ( sorry if you missed that fun day) I went bananas and purchased some. 

The dirty sponge is the thing I hate most about dishes, especially in a sink thats been waiting for weeks. Somehow they always slip down in an old pot of stew, to get wet and slimy and stink like a dead opossum.  They may actually be dead opossums, did you know sponges could grow fur? Just retrieving it grossed me out.  Everything about it grossed me out, the way they retained the stain from beets and sauces, the way they just never felt clean. The way I would realize it was my last sponge and gag my way thru the dishes. The way my dishes felt dirtier after rubbing a bloated slimy dead possum all over them.

I noticed a difference the first time I used my Scrub Daddy, that it was incredibly not gross.  I remember thinking to myself, "Well that wasn't so bad, maybe I am turning into Monica Gellar.*" I liked how the sponge was kind of ridged at first and tackled the hard to scrub, but as it warmed up it was gentler and easy to use. Like a smart sponge.

About two weeks ago I did the dishes and I swear to you, I do not know what is going on , but I really enjoyed it. I put on some easy like Sunday morning music.  And I enjoyed the warm water spilling thru my fingers, with the birds dancing along in the yard.  I am zen monk buddha! 

 I felt like I had awoken from a long sleep to find a beloved stuffed animal on the ground. My dishes felt beloved "'I'm sorry dishes, I never meant to hurt you!" I washed them all with care. I wasn't cleaning because someone was coming to visit, wasn't trying to impress a boy I was cleaning because it felt good. 

When I was done I rinsed out the scrub daddy,  good as new and used it on all of the counters, and the stove and THE FRONT OF THE OVEN. I cleaned the whole damn kitchen. But more than that. I kept it clean. And each night since.

                              

I have cooked something almost every day washing as I worked and have made a game of tidying before bed. It is a feeling of control and peace that I haven't known. I am not begrudging it at all, I am actually loving it? I love the few dishes I possess, earthy wooden ones and the curly iron spoons. I love how the sponge smiles and looks so happy . You can stick the spoons in the smile of the sponge and feed it like its a baby and you are a giant weirdo.

                                                      

And for the first time ever, I realized that washing dishes! Is like giving them a bubble bath.  If you know me at all, you know I love a bathtub. And I don't mind admitting that I am The Bathtub Bandit. I have been breaking into peoples homes and using their bathtubs for 3 decades. I review them, draw them, analyze and improve upon them. I am a connoisseur of bathtubs, arguably the most famous in the world with hundreds of bathtubs conquered or thought about, or screenshot from Pinterest.  

                               

I have Drawn the conclusion that : A Kitchen Sink is a Bathtub for precious things. For the vessels that work so hard providing nourishment. Washing dishes can be soul shifting if you look for rainbows in the bubbles. It's easier to do hard things while something miles up at you, that's why babies are made so cute, you don't even notice they are pooping on you. 

      Maybe I can let go of the idea, "I am just a creator who can't maintain anything" I have clung to that identity for so long that it has unravelled. I am in truth capable of so much more. A bather, basking in in the now. Did Scrub Daddy Change my life? Did a smiley scrubber give me my kitchen table and my life back, for healing tea and journalling and games with my kids. Is it so simple that a sponge can do all that? I can not say for sure, I have enjoyed cleaning my kitchen for weeks and that has never ever happened before. Now Scrub Daddy What are we gonna do about the laundry?

*Monica Geller, For our extra terrestrial friends, is a fictional character who appeared on the sitcom 'Friends" from 1994-2004 she was known for being OCD ( 11 categories of hand towels )and obsessed with cleaning ( vacuums her vacuum ) She would have loved Scrub Daddy as much as I do.