I put ‘cleaning’ in “QUOTES” because the cleaning (not in quotes) required to clean up their “cleaning” is a lot more cleaning than the “cleaning” itself. But man, do they love “cleaning”! Leave ’em alone unoccupied for a few minutes and next thing you know they’re “cleaning” — they’ve gotten themselves into the Cleaning Closet in the laundry room… and all *heck* has broken loose! “Cleaning” “cleaning” craze craze craze. A tornado-like frenzy of frenetic “cleaning”-spraying-squirting-swooshing-mopping-scrubbing-“cleaning.” Usually it starts in the bathroom and then gradually moves into the kitchen. “Real men clean boys! Real men clean!” I cheer, as I dart back and forth re-directing a spray nozzle here (so it doesn’t go straight into an eye) and re-positioning a mop there (so it doesn’t slam-dent the baseboard). If it is left to go on long enough they’ll move through the whole house, with me gently guiding them (until I lose my patience and it turns into not-so-gentle-guidance at which point the fun of it usually ceases for them pretty quickly and they run off to other things leaving me in peace to clean up the “clean up.”) I’ve been trying to roll with it, though, calling up all the patience I have within me, and just grinning-and-bearing the follow-up cleaning required, because I figure that what I’m going through now is well worth it for the THANKS AND PRAISE I’ll be receiving someday down the road from their future life-partners. I imagine it now: proud me, as a sixty-something-year-old, my cup runneth over with gratitude from my lovely daughters-or-sons-in-laws (I just have to believe –or else I’ll cry– that we’ll have legalized marriage for all consenting adult partners by then). Anyway, I can deal with delayed gratification. Oh, yes I can. They’ll be thanking me someday for these modern men. And I’m putting it out there to the universe now: whoever you are, you out there, you who will be my boys’ life-partners someday…. YOU OWE ME BIG TIME FOR THIS!!!!!!! BIG TIME!!!! đŸ˜‰
