How I feel about domestic chores...

General cleaning. Hate it. All of it. However, if I have a stack of essays to grade, I’ll clean anything. Twice. With a toothbrush.

Vacuuming. Never touch the stuff. Seems too much like the “E” word (exercise…don’t make me say this word ever again). Ray does all the vacuuming, or we’d be armpit-deep in Australian Shepherd hairballs and African Grey bird dander.

Dusting. Hate it. I’m with the theorists who suggest that exposure to dust toughens one up, encourages immunity to disease, and gives everything a pleasant matte sheen. I give in and dust when I can write my name on the surface of the buffet.

Cooking. Love it. Hence, my lifetime membership in Weight Watchers. My favorite things to cook are bulgoki (Korean stir-fried beef), linguini with homemade pesto, roast chicken and root veggies, burritos of all kinds, almond chicken and brown rice. Cooking is meditation, communing with Earth, consorting with the gods Chemistry & Fire. Pearl Bailey nailed it when she said, “My kitchen is a mystical place, a kind of temple for me.”

Baking. Hate it because I suck at it. I have a long sordid history of foisting lopsided cupcakes, 12-pound unrisen loaves of anadama bread, cakes with sunken, gooey uncooked holes in the center, and burnt cookies on my patient family & friends. Although I make a mean gooseberry pie.

Laundry. Love it. I inherited from my mother an obsessive need to launder any article of clothing that’s touched human skin or the floor, however briefly. That means trying on several items before selecting something to wear results in a heavy washday. Lord knows I try not to toss clothing around carelessly. I’ve learned to leave the sheets on the bed for a week at a time, although I’m sure this is causing my somnambular tooth-grinding. Ray does his own laundry, misguidedly believing his clothes will last longer that way. I don’t have a clothesline here at Uncannery Row yet, and I miss terribly the smell of clean, sun-baked and windblown t-shirts and bedding. Must put a posthole digger on my shopping list…

Gardening. Love the results, hate the work. Mom put me to shame this month when she was awarded “yard of the Month” honors by the Vermillion Garden Club for her fairy garden. I tend to go great guns in the spring, taper off over the summer, and give it all up to Nature, wringing my hands, by mid-August. Any little slice of land I try to manage & manicure, Nature takes back by the end of summer. I’m powerless in the face of her unbeatable weapons, creeping charley and mosquitoes.

Lawn mowing. Love it. I get (a) to be the Pied Piper of Peacocks, and (b) the temporary illusion that I can manage & manicure.

Animal chores. Love them all, more joy than chore. These include feeding, watering, nail trimming, bathing, cleaning bird cages, hanging heatlamps in the loafing shed for the peacocks (Ray), rescuing babies, tending to injured foundlings, hauling to the vet, brushing (Ray), etc. In addition, I periodically make huge batches of a special egg & veggie cornbread and a special 13-bean & pasta mixture for the parrots, or all-natural dog treats. See “Cooking” above. Unlike humans with their insecurities, pretense, and hidden motives, animals, furred or feathered, are unabashedly themselves, and they love (or at least tolerate) unconditionally. Enough said. Except, see earlier posts for animal chores that result in inadvertently drop-kicking the perfect balance of Nature.