Tuesday, April 7, 2009

Doin' It Clean - Poem Number 7

Today’s prompt is a twofer. The inspirations were either clean or dirty.

For today’s blog entry, however, I will voice my frustration about how dirty my house is and how unclean I feel. Having to keep my feet up makes me notice even more the dust on the cabinet, on the TV and in the rays of sunshine that filter in.

I’m not supposed to be on my feet more than necessary, but it is driving me mad. Someone suggested I get a house keeper to do a quick run through, but I hate the idea of a stranger seeing all the lingering filth. Plus, it’s spring and the urge to clean the nest is second only to the need for other more carnal desires.
From the stuffed up gutters to the baseboards in the kitchen, I am being driven mad with this seasonal OCD episode. I suppose I could start from the bottom up and sit down to clean all that catches my eye in the long daylight.

I have never been called a neat nut or even tidy, though what I feel is a mess right now is truly just average living standards. Having pets and working makes it hard to keep a pristine environment, especially since I love to cook and to enjoy those moments nestled among my kids.

Guy has a theory that when we die we come back to clean our homes (why else would an unforeseen force move things about) so why should we spend those valuable hours of life wasted on chasing dust bunnies.
But I will find a way. I have heard a few comments about my lack of housekeeping, but they general come from those who don’t have actual responsibilities and who lack the couth to either help or shut up. For them, I long to rub their noses in dust and entice their allergies to come on full force. But there are many others who generally don’t care and either offer to help with little things or ignore it all for something more inspiring to do. To them, I pour another drink (I assure you the glass is clean) and welcome them in with loving arms.

For now, I will do what I can without washer, or standing, or help and ignore the rest.

Cleaning up a Dirty Situation
Newly laundered Egyptian cotton sheets
Slithering between her legs
As the fresh scent of her hair
Lingers in his imagination
With closed eyes and open desire.
A blank slate of lust fills her mouth
Bright dreams made real intertwined
And washed away of all guilty remorse
As she cleanses his waking moments
Immaculate and graceful

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