I have a secret: I hate cleaning. Ok, so it's not a secret to anyone who has seen my house, my car, or my kids, all of which are generally in some state of disarray.
I do like my house and car better when they are clean, though I love my boys the same dirty or clean, and if it involves self-administered face paint or mud, maybe more when they are dirty. I know my life is better when the chaos has been reigned in. But that knowledge is not enough motivation to do the work necessary on a regular basis to keep them clean.
My car has been referred to as the Rolling Dumpster on more than one occasion by more than one person, generally men, and to be honest it is not an inaccurate description.
|just add car seats and away we go!|
For a while I would invite people over with some regularity to force myself to clean, but once I had kids, that all went out the window. As a single mother, I was completely overwhelmed by the mess. (See how I blame being a single mother on that? Completely the best excuse ever, except for my other single mother friends who fuck it all up by having clean houses and even house cleaning businesses.)
Recently, I have been able to maintain a certain level of picked-up-ness around the house, thanks to children old enough to boss around who are also motivated by the concept of an allowance, but the wash the floors smells-clean-is-clean kind of house still eludes me most days.
Le sigh. It's okay. I have other interests. I can even blame my mother, as my first husband did, for not raising me to have high enough standards. After Ex-Mr. Only Mama the First visited my parents house for the first time, he told me that he knew we would never work out, because I wasn't obviously wasn't raised to know how to keep house properly. He was right, and also an asshole, as that also statement proves. But I digress.
What my mother did right was to allow my brother and I to play as much as possible, and what we played a lot was Star Wars. It was one of the few interests that we shared equally, that crossed gender and age boundaries. (This is not a ramble, this is a segue, stay with me.) Although my brother had the At-At and the Tauntaun, I had princess Leia, assorted ewoks, and R2D2 underoos.
So imagine my surprise and elation to find that Shark makes and actually sells for a reasonable price R2D2's cousin!
It's white and shiny metallic red. It has wheels and attachments. It even has headlights!!!
Who was vacuuming at midnight last night? This girl. Who was squealing and oohing and ahhhhing like a proud 1950's housewife last night? This girl. Who laid on the floor taking photo after photo of the new cleaning device? You guessed. It was me.
The geekification of appliances might be the answer to all my problems! Suddenly, the pursuit of cleanliness is a re-creation of my best childhood memories. Suddenly, cleaning is cool and fun. Of course it will wear off. Of course it will soon be just a kind of dirty tool of drudgery (white is a stupid color for a dust sucking device). But now I have a plan. What that happens, I'll buy it a C3P0.
Or better yet, an Ewok.
|image: the awesomer|
Robots are cool, but dogs solve everything.