Where Is the dishwasher Soap

I want to establish something before we begin, because I can be misrepresented on this matter by certain people.

I know where the dishwasher soap is. I always knew it and I will always know where the dishwasher soap is.

As a matter of fact, some people even call me the dishwasher soap finder, the oracle of the bubbles, or the GSPS (Global Soap Positional System).

This is not a post about a man who didn't know where the soap is. This is a post about a man who knew, with complete and unwavering certainty, where a thing was, and who then spent two hours and eleven minutes trying to make sure that it was nowhere else besides where he thought knew they were. Those are different stories.

The dishwasher soap is under the sink, as it was known from time immemorial, and as shall henceforth continue to be known by generations to come. It has always been under the sink. Under the sink is where dishwasher soap lives, in the same way that Tuesday comes after Monday and how it is fine to forget the toilet seat up. You do not "look for" the dishwasher soap any more than you look for the floor.

09:14 The situation

The sink contained, in order of discovery: two pans, one nested inside the other in a way that suggested somebody had a healthy breakfast on his own, way more food that one should eat alone for brekky; a colander; a wooden spoon that has been slowly turning solid from the grey matter that clunked around it; four mugs; the lid of something; the pancakes maker metal frame full with burnt dough that now seemed soggy and gross with water embuing into it through time, and a plate sunk deep within the bowl used to mix the pancakes.

I turned on the tap. I reached for the bottle on the counter. Tried to clean those massive clunks of food and neglect off the pieces of ceramics to no avail. That is when it hit me! I should use the washing machine!

09:26 The plot thickens

Loading it up, while killing some flies that were smurking in the drenched waters of pancake dough, all was ready, but one minute detail... The soap was not loaded in! And as a hunter who sees his prey from up close just to find himself out of bulets, there was I with my dishes ready to load, but nothing on the chamber.

So I went under the sink. Confidently. The way you'd reach into your own pocket.

Some people, at this point in the story, would say they thought the soap was under the sink. I want to be precise. I did not think it. If you had woken me at three in the morning and asked me where the dishwasher soap was, I would have said "under the sink" before I said my own name (which would be weird in any case, as in "Why would you wake me up at 3am to ask my name? Are you having a seizure? Should I take you to the hospital?). No, it was not a belief. It was closer to a physical law. I knew where the soap was!

I mention this because everything that follows is consistent with it.

09:37 Diving inside the cabinet

I open the cabinet and more flies come out of their slumber. I fend them off, and kill them one by one with a martial technique I learned in Japan (or will learn when I go travelling there). My eyes dart into the baskets and their bags, orange, white, yellow... but no dishwasher soap.

The dishwasher soap was not visible.

I want to draw attention to the word "visible," because I chose it carefully. "Not visible" and "not there" are different claims. I am making only one of them.

Meanwhile, the dishes were starting to stink more profusely inside the washing machine, as if they were souls lost into the quicksand or mud pits of a swamp, begging to be rescued from all of that filth.

09:38 Like Eminem, I am cleaning out my cabinet

I removed the contents of the cabinet to the kitchen floor, I did this systematically, front to back, and I laid everything out in the order it came out, like a man documenting a dig site.

Under the objects there was a layer of dust. Under the dust there was a pasta shape.

The cabinet was empty. There was no dishwasher soap in it.

I remained calm, just the voice inside my head started to shout in panic.

09:44 The decision

I had two options.

Option one: keep looking. This is unbounded. There is no natural end to looking. Looking can make you stare at an object in such a profound way that it makes you see their minor details and flaws. If you look at something just so attentively. you might even lose track of the meaning of the object, like when you repeat a word over and over so many times that their sounds detach from their meaning. You can look at something for so long that you might become part of that something.

Option two: go and buy dishwasher soap. This is bounded. It has a beginning, a middle, and an end, and it takes place partly outdoors.

I want to stress that this was not a retreat. I was not conceding the location of the dishwasher soap. I was procuring additional dishwasher soap, which is a completely separate initiative that happened to be running at the same time.

10:02 Shoes, umbrella and a call coat

The weather was threatening to rain, so I couldn't leave unprepared and come back soaking wet. Or worse, with the dishwasher soap bubbling on my hands providing me a good self-washing session. I put on the shoes, got the umbrella, now I needed just to grab my coat.

"Where is my coat?"

Nowhere to be found...

Now, I want to establish something before we proceed, because I can be misrepresented on this matter by certain people.

I know where my coat is. I always knew it and I will always know where my coat is.

As a matter of fact, some people even call me "my own coat finder", the oracle of finding my coat, or the GECPS (Global Eric's Coat Positional System).

This is not a post about a man who didn't know where the soap is. This is... Well, you know what, maybe I should just ask my girlfriend where the dishwasher soap is, just to be sure...

And voilá! Have you ever realized how on the day you buy a red car, it seems that all over the streets all you can see are red cars, that were never there before? The same happened with the dishwasher soap. There it was, where I always knew it was, and where I will always know that it will be. But now it was visible.

Some of life's mysteries may never be solved. Like why Golden Retrievers are so easy-going and friendly? Or who is the secret creature that keeps putting the toiled lid up after I put it down? Seriously! Or how can it be, that the dishwasher soap (that, as it was established, I always knew where it was) suddenly reappeared after a brief exchange of words? Enchantments? Witchcraft? Or pure magic? I guess we will never know.

Conclusions

1. The dishwasher soap was under the sink. I said it was under the sink. It was under the sink. Whatever else happened this morning, these are the facts.
2. My coat is still at large. Any useful information that may lead to its capture will be rewarded.
3. The dishwasher is dishing dishes are washing. As expected, now the machine is loaded and firing away, with the soap that was where it was known to be.

Now, you may ask me: "Who will clean the mess left on the kitchen while you were looking for the dishwasher soap?".

Well, my dear child, some of the life's mysteries may never be solved.