I’m not going to make a habit of this, but I’ve spent the day shopping and cleaning to prep. for a dinner for my father-in-law tonight, and I’ve been tweeting the process intermittently.
Now I’m sitting and waiting for my back to settle down after the vacuuming (my lower back and the vacuum are sworn enemies), it seems a useful way of updating the blog, as well.
Is this so far beyond postmodern that it comes around to being cool again? Or just self-indulgent narcissism (which is roughly three steps past normal narcissism)?
Well, why can’t it be both?
Dear Santa, For Christmas I would like a self-cleaning robot house. I am asking in advance so the elves have time to finish it. Love, Me.
I know full well that my bathroom could be cleaner, but the toilet itself is spotless, and “near enough is good enough” is today’s motto.
Am never, ever buying lime-scented Toilet Duck again. Toilet smells like it stumbled home at 4 am after going on a bender on cheap tequila.
I was about to complain that there wasn’t much meat on the roast chicken I was shredding for a risotto when I realised I had it upside down.
I have done the bathroom and the kitchen. The living room? Not so much. I’m wondering how far I can push “near enough is good enough”?
Shame it’s weird to invite father-in-law to a candlelit dinner. They hide so many sins—and, at a pinch, you can distract people with fire.
Not that I recommend setting fire to your own home, but it would be one way to respond to “When was the last time you vacuumed this place?”