Housework Is The Pits!
Years ago, when I was in junior high school, I played the flute. I actually started playing in 4th grade, but being musical was just fun at that point. Over time, with a great deal of practice, I actually became quite good at it. However, that was just a side benefit. The real reason I practiced that flute for hours and hours was to get out of my chores. (Yes, I was a devious child!)
I hated dishes and dusting and vacuuming and ironing, all of the things that my mother decided were my chores. Dusting, vacuuming, and ironing were weekend jobs, so they weren't quite as bad. But dishes?! Dishes had to be done every day and often more than once a day! It was beyond cruel! Mom didn't believe in a machine to wash dishes, not when she had kids. In all fairness, her little kitchen didn't have an extra millimeter of room; a dishwasher was out of the question.
Now, if anyone ever tries to tell you that the events of your youth don't have a huge impact on your life as an adult - tell them to call me! I'll set them straight! To this very day, thousands of years later, I hate dishes, dusting, vacuuming, and ironing. Hate them so much that, if I had to choose between dishes and root canal - I'd choose the root canal.
Oh sure, every now and then I get a burst of guilt over the clutter and do the 'white tornado' business, cleaning everything in site until it sparkles. Every now and then - only. I even own an iron - although I'm pretty sure it's never been plugged in and certainly has never been introduced to any article of clothing that resides in the closet.
In fact, as I sit here typing, I know good and well that there are dishes screaming to be washed and floors that need to be vacuumed. I know that - just as sure as I know that if I can find anything else to do, I'll jump at the chance.
Just please, call before you stop by!? It gives me time to shove the dirty dishes into the oven.
I hated dishes and dusting and vacuuming and ironing, all of the things that my mother decided were my chores. Dusting, vacuuming, and ironing were weekend jobs, so they weren't quite as bad. But dishes?! Dishes had to be done every day and often more than once a day! It was beyond cruel! Mom didn't believe in a machine to wash dishes, not when she had kids. In all fairness, her little kitchen didn't have an extra millimeter of room; a dishwasher was out of the question.
Now, if anyone ever tries to tell you that the events of your youth don't have a huge impact on your life as an adult - tell them to call me! I'll set them straight! To this very day, thousands of years later, I hate dishes, dusting, vacuuming, and ironing. Hate them so much that, if I had to choose between dishes and root canal - I'd choose the root canal.
Oh sure, every now and then I get a burst of guilt over the clutter and do the 'white tornado' business, cleaning everything in site until it sparkles. Every now and then - only. I even own an iron - although I'm pretty sure it's never been plugged in and certainly has never been introduced to any article of clothing that resides in the closet.
In fact, as I sit here typing, I know good and well that there are dishes screaming to be washed and floors that need to be vacuumed. I know that - just as sure as I know that if I can find anything else to do, I'll jump at the chance.
Just please, call before you stop by!? It gives me time to shove the dirty dishes into the oven.
Don't forget to visit JMark Afghans and My Gallery at Zazzle
We also have a page on Squidoo that supports the Genocide Intervention Network.
We look forward to seeing you online.
God Bless!
Jules
posted by JMarkAfghans @ 2:34 PM
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