Is there any job that drags a woman down like cleaning house? Not in my world.
Somebody told me that there are women out there who thrive on keeping house and cleaning and cooking and doing laundry and ironing (wash your mouth out with soap).
Is that true? Well, that’s just sick. These women need help. Help that involves stretching out on the psychiatrist’s couch and spilling some guts. Then taking a couple of Valium. Maybe three. Along with a half glass of red wine. Wine in moderation is good for your heart. Valium is good for the nerves. Psychiatrists are good for the mind. Mix ‘em all up and you ‘gone’ be fine,’gurl.’
There should be a support group that caters to helping the “cleaner” heal — like AA. Maybe called CCC (cleaners contemplating change) or DDD (declare dirt dandy). You don’t think so? Well, you come up with something.
I’m all for somebody smart inventing robots to do all my scrub work. I’m NOT lazy — I’m just selective in my activities. I don’t like to do stuff I don’t like to do. Is that so hard to understand?
Since I’m not a born-again cleaner, it doesn’t bother me like it would somebody like — say— a Lysol-bearing, broom-toting diva wearing a starched apron.
It’s so easy to bad-mouth somebody you are jealous of and feel inferior to. Here’s the thing — I do other things really well. I can tie the stem of a cherry in a knot using only my tongue. Huh? Not just anybody can do that.
You can ask 10 different people what constitutes good housekeeping and you will probably get 10 different answers. My concept of good housekeeping is this: If you can get to the refrigerator and the bed without stumbling over something, everything’s in good shape. If the box of baking soda in your refrigerator has brown stuff sprouting out of it, you are probably on the bottom end of the scale.
Why is it a rule that you have to clean the top of the refrigerator — I have to get up on a chair to see it. Why do you have to clean the oven when the door is always closed?
Why do you think that the professional “housefrau” is a vanishing breed? Not many dyed-in-the-wool homemakers are left. Those of us who are not infected with clean-itis had rather spend our time in a work atmosphere that involves a paycheck with nobody’s name on it but our own. I work, I get paid for it.
You misled people who preach that an unpaid job well done is its own reward are missing something. You may have added meaning to your life but you also may not have the bread to buy the bread. I’ll take meaningful work that let’s me indulge in life’s necessities — TV, chocolate and a new handbag. Then I’m happy and well-adjusted.
You can’t be a good domestic goddess if you are constantly besieged by demon-possessed appliances. You spend all your time watching them and waiting for them to do something demonic. My washing machine swallows socks when I’m not looking. In every load of clothes a sock disappears. Not both, just one. I have pulled out the wet, clean clothes to dump them in the dryer and found objects that have been missing for years - just now making their appearance. Wonder how that book got in the wash. I could have sworn I took that curling iron to Goodwill last week.
But listen, there’s a health benefit in grunge — breath deep. With all the germs floating around in your mess, you are slowly building up an immunity to bad bacteria. This is scientific. Thus, you can fight off all sorts of infections and be a healthier individual. So, dirt is good.
I ran this theory by my doctor. He was still laughing when he escorted me out of his office.
Dale Lilly (aka The Gilded Lilly) is Lifestyles Editor and may be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.