It's a Dirty, Dirty World

Why do I clean? Don't they say the definition of insanity is to do the same thing again and again and expect different results? I clean and it gets dirty. I clean again and it gets dirty again. There is nothing more satisfying than a made bed, freshly mopped floors, vacuumed carpets, a floor without toys, and a clean bathroom. There is nothing more disappointing than the realization that it's all for naught.

The bed gets slept in, the bananas, french fries, and green beans end up on the floor again, the toys once again, along with the tupperware lids, end up scattered across the family room, the car, and the kitchen.

Yesterday, I found a piece of cheese in Finny's diaper, and when I was returning some plastic cups to Party City, I left the sales clerk with the plastic bag and she called me back. "Excuse me, Miss," she said, "Is this your number three?"

Yes, it was my number three.

I understand why I must clean up. If I don't, we'll all be skating across the kitchen floor on tupperware lids and squashed bananas, and soap scum will take over the bathroom (there's something cruel and unusual about the fact that I have to clean up soap).

But sometimes the puzzle pieces are just going to remain under the couch and my hair dryer is just going to remain on the bathroom counter because you know what? I'm just going to dry my hair again tomorrow and that puzzle is just going to be unpuzzled again in twenty minutes.

It's a dirty, dirty world we live in and sometimes it just doesn't make sense to clean it up.