CONFESSIONS OF A SLOB
I can honestly say that I hate housework with every fibre of my being.

I hate the stirring of dust provoking allergies, I hate the harshness of soaps on my hands, I hate the overwhelming piles of crap a pack-rat like myself has no chance of ever organizing. I hate vaccuum bags, mold spores, and discoveries of things that belong in another room, not the one you're cleaning. I hate wasting my time on something so stupid when there are other people who seem to attack such tasks with an organized zippiness that I will never ever ever discover inside of myself.

Basically what I hate is that I'm a slob. There's no other way to phrase it. What I really hate about housework is how it forces me to confront so many of my weaknesses. It brings me face to face with the chaos inside my head. My inability to commit to simple rituals. My insurmountable tendency to procrastinate. My clumsiness and physical sensitivities. My distractibility. My inability to prioritize. My tendency to throw my hands in the air and give up. My insecurities that people who see my sloppiness will certainly be disgusted with not only my poor housekeeping skills, but with ME.

There are definitely times when I enjoy housework in spite of myself but these instances are less frequent than incidents of spontaneous combustion.

Verily I say unto you, if I can ever afford it I will have a fucking housecleaner. One of those horrible jolly types who lives for lysol and looking up her own skirt off of the reflective shine of a freshly scrubbed floor.
posted by Trixie at 5/31/2003 05:22:00 PM -