They Call Me, Piggy

Some people are characterized for their insatiable wit. Some their unworldly charm and class. Some their appetite for the finer things in life. Me, I’m characterized for my utter disregard for all things clean. Washing the dishes. Making the bed. Dusting the furniture. Fluffing the pillows. Washing the clothes. I know them not. With my parents, it was easy. My brother and I shared the basement. Two bedrooms, one nasty bathroom, and approximately twenty-one square miles of dirt and grime. By the time we reached high school, the parents would only venture as far as the first step and yell – both petrified of what lurked beneath. In college, I almost lost a roommate over my refusal to clean our dorm’s bathroom for more than six months. I truly believe new species of insects spawned and flourished before I finally and reluctantly picked up the Comet. It is not laziness. (At least that’s what I tell people.) I could take a full course load of classes, and still find the time and energy for college football and a weekend job. Yet I couldn’t make myself pick up a toilet brush or cleaning sponge. Why? I’m glad you asked. I’ve always viewed cleaning as an unnecessary ritual left to us by some pompous Greek designer or Elizabethan queen. Pre-programmed methods of impressing company and keeping one’s obsessive-compulsive cravings at bay. Seriously, does any of it make sense? If you are going to unmake the bed every night to sleep, why make it in the first place? If you don’t plan on rearranging furniture anytime soon, why move it to vacuum? The illogic is immeasurable. Yet here I sit. Writing away at my polished computer desk in my immaculate bedroom within my spotless apartment. I spend my weekends vacuuming, scrubbing bathtubs, and carrying trashbags. What changed my mind? What caused this sudden epiphany? In life, minds rarely alter, and change usually occurs only when something new outweighs the importance of something old. So, why the change? In a word, marriage. All the logic and reasoning on earth could not hope to tackle the terror of a wife’s scorn. Hey, being able to rationalize why I didn’t fold my clothes is a nice ability to have, but it won’t keep my warm at night or make the couch any more comfortable for sleeping.