|The husband declares war on dirt!|
Another day filled to the brim with household chores. The husband has been in the midst of a cleaning frenzy – dusting and mopping with a dedication that boggles the mind. He has declared war on every spot, stain, cobweb as well as every lizard that has long defied my determined attempts to evict them from our home. The better half was ruthless rather like a Monica Gellar on steroids, but he became a tad dejected when confronted with the unshakeable persistence of the dust demons that cling to everything lasciviously and the unavoidable sightings of assorted smudges, spatters, and smears that will always besmirch the place, despite your relentless efforts.
With all the wisdom of the veteran albeit reluctant, somewhat resigned domestic diva, I told him that he could spend every minute of every day, being Monica Gellar (on steroids!) and cleaning with a vengeance but in the end, the dirt always wins. The prudent thing to do is to do what I do which is to make your peace with all things messy as long as it has the good sense to remain out of sight. Plus, you can assure yourself that seven star levels of cleanliness don’t translate to cosy and homey. Besides it is cruel to whack every spider you meet with your broom. It is not humanitarian and their rough spun, yet delicate webs are works of art that add something to the décor. However, I will not object if lizards or cockroaches are ruthlessly exterminated. Why aren’t the damned things not even close to extinction anyway?
Being the novice he is, the husband ignored my sage advice, muttered something about people who rationalize away their shoddiness and informed me that he will achieve the impossible seven star standard of hygiene tomorrow. I nodded indulgently, just glad that I didn’t have to dust or mop, and turned my attention to the ants that were trying to sneak into my jar of overpriced Patanjali honey. It was time to roll up my sleeves and switch to killer mode!
Having cleaned up all evidence of the carnage, I found my thoughts turning to the Before Corona era. It is the simple things I miss the most like hanging out aimlessly at the mall, watching movies at the theatre while the rowdy fans whistle and raise hell, grabbing coffee with pals and simply shooting the breeze, making not so environment friendly plans with family and friends since they usually involved travelling or eating out, rushing around taking care of irksome errands, getting jostled by the unruly crowd at theme parks, markets and wherever you happened to be at any given moment. Hell, I even think longingly of the daily grind when 24 hours was not sufficient to honour all your personal or professional commitments not to mention the interminable deadlines which would send my stress levels soaring through the roof. Most of all, I miss haranguing the maid for neglecting to sweep under the sofa or breaking my mother – in – law’s pickle jar. Sigh, those were the good old days!
However, I certainly don’t miss the endless traffic, serpentine queues and appalling levels of pollution. Or the people who didn’t think there was anything wrong with coughing in your face, elbowing you out of the way or peeing on your compound wall. Or the road. Or any public or private property that wasn’t an honest to goodness restroom. And I don’t miss shaking hands (I have always preferred Namaskaram or a simple wave, after all there is no way to ascertain whether the person shaking your hand has washed their hands after using the loo or digging their nose.) So I guess, there is that.
What do I do now? Perhaps I will take a nap and dream of a Corona free future which is a lot closer than we dare hope.