If you clicked on this due to the title, good for you. It’s time we talked about this whole being mad at various things that offend our senses. Also, as you may have noted, this is the first in a penetrating series on our modern ailments. And what is it that we shall struggle with today, in the old parlance of communistic indoctrination?
Dirt and grime and dust bunnies and the general need to keep nature from overwhelming us.
That’s right: Spring cleaning: the scourge of all humanity, minus, of course, those anal retentive types, who have to have everything just so.
But I digress…
Duly informed and thusly focused, and buttressed by my better half, we joined the battle, risking our very lives, or at least our sense of responsibility, as the possibility of guests sometime in the near future reared its ugly head. With scrub brushes and brooms, disinfectants and wipes, we set forth. No corner was safe from our searching cobweb thingy; no surface untouched by sore hands and Clorox.
To ensure our spirits were being boosted in this patriotic work, the hits of our youth filled the house. Woe is thee who is not energized by The Grass Roots and the Bangles and the Who and you get the picture.
Can it be said this is exciting? Heck, no. WIll it materially affect our daily living environment? …. It’s possible. Is that even the point? Who can say. What can be said is the house is clean and your hands won’t stick to the counter and you won’t pass out anytime you open the refrigerator. These are important things to strive for.
Because it is incumbent to set an example for the young folks (and yes, I never thought I would ever say that). And who wouldn’t love to strut about a lysol smelling house. It’s like being a kid again.
And isn’t that what we all want?
Now some may say that we are tools of the oppressive industrial cleaning complex, and perhaps this is so, but a clean house is a happy house and I’m sticking with that even if it might not be true.
So take heart as you sweep and wipe and curse your ill fortune, for it is done for a good cause and will certainly earn you a Good Housekeeping seal of approval, assuming that magazine still even exists.
Hazzah, my friends, hazzah.
©2021 David William Pearce