Yesterday I posted as my facebook status that 2012 would be the year to be revolting. I know it was a funny, yet somehow nasty play on words regarding my previous blog post (you can read it here). One friend commented with “to revolt or be revolting, that is the question.”
I did, of course, mean I was going to revolt. I was going to rebel. I was not going to be repulsive or impolite in polite society. I am going to change how I operate in society but not so much as to cause a stink (pun completely intended). I’m going to question the social confines more than I have. I am not going to blindly follow what others say I have to do. Especially if it in any way, shape or form, benefits them and their bottom line, their wallet.
I’ve long, if not always, been a rather independent thinker. Those who have known me for a long while, if not all of my 40-something years (and some of you are shocked I am now pasted the advanced age of 40 but there you have it) might find this a bit shocking. “What? She’s never been an independent thinker! She’s always been a follower.” Others of you are somewhat shocked I’m just now mentioning this tidbit about myself and wonder what the other people are smoking to not have realized this prior to my grand revelation of right this minute.
It is true. I don’t like, and get down right irritated when people think they have to do my thinking for me. I have no problems thinking for myself and often even acting on my thoughts. Shoot the older I get the more apt I am to spout off whatever thought happens to enter my noggin. Sad to say I do it without much forethought. That always seems to get me in trouble.
Usually Mr. FullCup will need to ask me a question and he’ll start with, “Do you think….” and I always have to interject, “No. Not unless there isn’t anything better to do.” But that isn’t quite true.
I see I have digressed yet again. The purpose of my post yesterday was not to say we should fly from one extreme to the next like the proverbial pendulum. Not at all.
I am not at all condoning living in filth and squalor because your guests and family will feel loved because you’re no longer a stressed out, grump flying around the house in a rather vain attempt to have it look like you live on HGTV. I’m not saying one should throw cleanliness to the wind and shower only once a week, if that often.
What I am saying is if shampooing our hair is really as bad for it as everyone seems to say, then why on earth do we feel we aren’t clean if we don’t wash it every day?
I will still have my children disinfect the bathroom every morning except Sunday. We will still wash dishes every day. The dining room floor will still get swept each evening. Because that just makes sense.
Living in squalor would really just push me over the edge. I would be stressed out and grumpy but for a different reason. I can’t handle clutter and I can’t handle a mess.
So my house will remain clean, but it isn’t likely to pass any sort of white glove test. And I’m refusing to bow to peer pressure that says it has to. Real people live here. Real people with real hopes and dreams. Real people who leave oatmeal boxes on the counter and Tinkerbelle alarm clocks on the couch. Real people who know the value of enjoying the presence of others over owning a showplace where life doesn’t and can’t happen.
You see, my house, probably much like your house, is lived in. My house gets messy. And when it does, we clean it. And yes, when people are coming over we tend to clean it a little more vigorous than normal. I think that has it’s place…maybe.
This means we might wear something more than once in between it’s trips to the laundry. Although even with that I have my limits. I can’t, for example, ever think it would be a good idea to wear undies more than one day. I can’t do it. Socks too. Shirts are, to be frank, iffy in my book. I know, I know if one doesn’t perspire in them, the shirt could be worn again. I just struggle with that. So basically I think wearing jeans and pajamas are okay. We also wash towels once a week as well as sheets.
I will ponder life back in a simpler time. And I use that term very loosely. I think people living 100 years ago would like my life was simpler because I have the modern conveniences they didn’t. I have access to a plethora of restaurants that are just waiting to do my cooking for me. And if I’m in a rush, they have a handy drive up window where they will pass my food through the wall.
I also have a microwave that dings when my food is ready. It takes seconds to minutes instead of minutes to hours to possibly all day to get my food ready. I have a washer and dryer right here in my own house. And while laundry still takes me a day, I can get it all done. The dryer allows me to dry my clothes inside my house without the need to hang them out in the dead of winter. I have a dishwasher so I no longer know the meaning of “dishpan hands”.
By simpler I mean they didn’t have cable and/or satellite tv with channels telling them how to keep up the Jones’. They didn’t have women’s magazines (and don’t get me started on the inequality on magazines) by the rows at the grocer’s telling them how to wow their guests with the perfect turkey this year. As if it was really all that different from last year.
I have never gone to a house and exclaimed, “Oh your turkey (ham, chocolate cake) is so last year. I can’t believe you still cook it that way.”
I might have it easier with all the modern conveniences at my disposal, but they had it better.
In fact I’m probably saying I’ll continue to conduct my life much like I have for the past 20 years. My house will be clean, but there might be some dirt on the floor, germs lurking in the corner and good bacteria on my hands. Because I know God made dirt and dirt don’t hurt. I know we might be less likely to succumb to so called “super bugs” by living with a few germs.
(Oh and just to let you know, I swept some cobwebs from the dining room light fixture yesterday. Because it bugged me.)