That's It, I'm Cleaning

(March 11, 2003)

"I should have had my sister take her shoes off," Joe said. It was Friday night and his sister had been over to watch a movie and hang out. My headache and hacking cough still had me consoling my teddy bear on the couch instead of drowning in Scorpion Bowls with MojoNine and the band camp boys.

"Why, are you now brushing off your socks?" I asked. The action is, and I know it because I do it too, you walk around your apartment collecting cosmic debris on your socks. Once it reaches the Princess and the Pea stage, where you can FEEL that your socks are dusty (cat litter particles are particularly egregious), you brush the socks off into the garbage.

Joe paces laps around his place whilst on the phone, so an hour talking to me means we're probably already on the second sock Zamboni run. Sometimes he hits mute with his chin during this balancing act.

"God," I said, looking at my own floors. The area rug in the living room is a constellation of salt and sand and dust and...what is THAT? "Ugh, I HAVE to vaccuum."

"This is like vacuuming in slow motion," Joe suggested. The sock-Zamboni, he means.

"Oh, vacuuming in slow motion, hm?" I wondered, "What do I call it when I haven't washed the dishes for two weeks?"

"Soaking!"

"Nice! How about when I really REALLY need to do laundry?"

"Shopping."

Ah.

Oh my god, I live like a boy.