Thinking while ironing

Housework:
Washing the same towels year after year, again and again… ironing the same sheets… taking the same dishes out of the dishwasher… Sartre’s view of hell was a dinner party with the same few friends for eternity or were they stuck in the elevator? Whatever, we won’t invite him to dinner, will we?

When I went in the morning in my car there was this crunchy sound under my tires, ice and snow, I liked that sound, is was like popping pop corn or driving over peas. But then I got this idea: Maybe the snowcorns are yelling, oh, please, don´t crunch us! Then I thought about how many manifestations of being such a tiny drop has. A drop of water, shiny, wet and tranparent, a snowflake, white, dancing from the sky like a ballerina, as icekristall, glittering like a jewel. And, holding hands and tucking in their little heads, they become hard bits of hail. And they don´t complain, at least not so we would know about it. Still, maybe, who wants to get crunched?

I tell everybody that I have started summerholidays. And Gerschwin´s “summertime” is dancing through my head. An allergic reaction to all the christmassongs? But I do like Rudolf the reindeer with the red nose and ..and but not all day long, everywhere but in my oh so sweet and quiet house. Here you only here the dishwashing and the washing machine and the vacuum cleaner and me singing ”summertime”.

Monika, I am still in the first room of your new game. I killed the spider, I got up from the chair, I took the dart and had some Tequila. I even picked up the worm. I found some stupid vase. I looked at and tried everything that had a name. You said it was easy! Does this say something about my brain?