In the process of cleaning my house today, I discovered that I own no less than three pairs of white fisherman pants. Three! And seeing as I’m fairly sure that I’ve never actually purchased a pair of white fisherman pants for myself, I’m really not sure who to blame for this triple-up of colours. They are all in fairly good condition, too, which suggests that they’re all recent acquisitions. Here I was thinking that I only had one pair (which goes to show how often I actually fold and properly store my clothes). I also have one pair that used to be black, but is now mottled grey, because apparently I didn’t follow the correct instructions for washing them the first time, which involves a warm wash with a cup of salt added to the machine before washing. I won’t make the same mistake with Rhys’ nice shiny new black pair. In fact, if I had a cup of salt I’d wash them right now… but I don’t. Only sea salt. And only a small shaker.
I loathe cleaning the house. It’s right at the top of my Least Favourite Things in the World” list, along with Shooting Myself in the Kneecap, and Watching MTV (have you ever watched MTV? Like really watched it? Oh my god. If you’re ever feeling too intelligent for your own good, and happen to be near a TV with Foxtel, just put it on for a while to dumb yourself down a bit. Holy mother). However, when it’s all said and done, my house looks wicked and I actually really love being in it, instead of feeling slightly scungy, which is how I usually feel. In fact, I’ve decided to commit to a regular cleaning hour once a week, just so I can enjoy this totally clean house feeling for more than just a few days every three months. I know that makes me sound really quite foul and dirty, but this can be justified. 1] I’m a student. Students are messy. 2] I’m in my 20s. People in their 20s are just overgrown, lazy teenagers. 3] Everything chemical makes me sneeze like it’s going out of fashion, and I end up with bullshit asthma (this is probably due to the dust, which regular cleaning would eradicate). 4] It’s not like we live in squalor. Rhys cleans. But he’s away more and more these days, and to be honest, I’m just not feeling as good about sitting around in my own filth, waiting for him to clean up after me, as I usually am. (I’m joking people. Mostly.)
So clean house = happy Erin. I still have to do the kitchen (bleh), the toilet (bleeehhhh), and the outdoorsy bits, which is always a massive sham as the inspection agent never ever ever checks outside… but the one time we don’t tidy up out there will be the one time she checks. I’m pretty sure she’ll check tomorrow because we haven’t been able to mow the “lawn”, aka hay-and-sand pile, as Rhys has been away for the past week and there’s no way in living hell that I’m going anywhere near a lawnmower or whipper snipper. I’m generally okay at most things, but I say with 100% confidence that I will injure myself should I be forced to use either of these instruments. And it won’t be a scratch. It will be one of those moments where I am wheeled into the Emergency Room with an injury so bizarre and fucked up that the doctors and nurses and even the other patients look at me and say, “Honestly, how the hell did you manage that?”. And then it will be on TV and Today Tonight will interview me, and I’ll become a celebutard for three minutes because I was too incompetent to know how to use a simple piece of garden equipment.
Which is why I won’t mow.
What I am going to do is clean the kitchen and toilet, most begrudgingly, and then instead of going to the gym (which I really don’t want to do as I am in severe pain from Pump the other night and really just need a good stretch), do a 60 minute power yoga class that I downloaded this afternoon from Yoga Download, after much deliberation as to whether I could afford the $9 download charge in my current state of impoverishment. Then I’m going to eat lamb Balti curry and steamed vegetables for dinner, which is incidentally the same thing I had for breakfast, only I ate it with couscous at breakfast time.
Oh happy day!
