hail to the [laundry] chief

i played hooky today...the weekend flew past me, and monday morning felt like it should be sunday morning, so i "cut" work, and promptly started cleaning the apartment like mad.

i cannot cook to save my life (i live on canned tuna and cereal when cybs is not home), and when my sister left for malaysia for work, she left a million post-its on our various kitchen appliances, left explicit instructions on how to heat leftovers, and left a ton of leftovers in our fridge.

she came home about a month or two later to find the fridge still full of leftovers, and me a lot thinner because of a cereal diet.

i cannot cook to save my life, but i can spend hours cleaning, and take true comfort in it. i suppose it's the before and after feeling i get. dirty dishes now, clean dishes 3-5 tori songs later. dirty floor now, hairball free later.

in our old apartment, i'd hang newly washed clothes out to dry on our baby balcony. i'd take in the clear blue sky, the wind on my face, that whole looking out like a barrio lass move, and a sense of calm would come over me.

so am beginning to think i was a labandera in a past life. either a vietnamese girl (hence the tendency to say didi mow) in some rice paddy, or a redhead in ireland. for a moment i considered being russian, but then that would mean dealing with a lot of hot water, which i'm not a big fan of.