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Created on: January 14, 2009 Last Updated: January 25, 2012
Being a man, it is hard to admit this, and don't ever repeat this to anyone, but I love doing house work. There is just something magical about scrubbing down a bunch of dirty pots and pans. There is a feeling you get when you finally reach an empty sink that makes your knees quiver. An odd sense of pride envelopes you, and runs a tingle up your spine. Only a few minutes ago the sink was filled with dirty dishes and crusty pizza boxes, now it looks like a shiny work of art. You even wiped the food bits out of the drain trap. As you bask in your feeling of accomplishment, you realize this is what the ancient pyramid builders must have felt like.
If there was any thing that even compared to cleaning it would have to be drinking. Both have that mind numbing affect that allows you to completely turn off your brain, and lose yourself in the moment. Yet while they are both fun, cleaning does not have the negative effects that drinking does, such as a hangover or constant rejection from women.
Housework is much more than a simple addiction. It is a constant companion, in times of stress or depression. Who can deny the feeling of coming home from the daily grind, with people constantly yapping in your ear. To open your door as a glow of happiness comes across your face, because you know for the next few brief shining moments it's just you and the dishes. In all their greasy glory they beckon you as if to say, "You don't have to listen to our stupid office jokes. Or who we think should win American Idol. Just be yourself."
And with those sweet gentle words you begin to scrub your pots and pans. With each movement, grease begins to float across the surface of the water. With it rainbows dance in the light. Instantaneously you are whisked away to a simpler place and time. In that moment you and the dishes are one, joined under god in holy matrimony. The soap in your hands, the florescent kitchen lighting, something about this makes it a night to remember.
Before you know it, you lay on your couch exhausted and in complete bliss. When suddenly from the closet you can hear a distant whisper. The sweet siren song of your hoover makes your eyes flutter. Just then you realize the fun is far from over. You have much more work to do. You work into the night, when it is all over you look up at the ceiling. And in that moment you realize there is a god.
Learn more about this author, John Mcsteinberg.
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