I like to clean. Now if youve been to my house or seen my car, you are probably screaming, "Liar!" not unlike Miracle Max's Wife. I wont say that i do it often, because the moons have to be properly aligned:
I have to have a block of time set aside
I have to have access to music
I have to be alone
I have to be headache free
I have to be able to over come the call to inertia of any book I may be reading at the time
and I have to be well fed so that I dont get distracted and start cooking something which will inevitably take me to the store, take prep time, cooking time and create a pile of dishes by which time Ryan will be home and I will no longer be alone and thus cannot clean.
But, the heavens cooperating, I am able to, I like organizing my belongings, taking stock of their condition, making lists of things that need to be purchased for future corralling of possessions, ie bookends, ashtrays for change and barrettes. I like the smell of dust spray and the moist look of well polished wood. I love fresh sheets. I like folding laundry, warm in my lap as it comes out of the dryer. And I love singing 99 Red Balloons at the top of my lungs while I do it.
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