The things we do for love


So we have divided up the chores, The Lovely Rhonda and I.

That is to say, she pays the bills and all that, and I do anything and everything else to avoid having to handle the bill-paying.  I’m not saying I do it all well, or in a timely fashion, but I do it.

Least favorite among these tasks is the scrubbing of the bathroom.  This is partly because the bathroom is in somewhat ragged shape and it’s impossible to get it all clean.  It’s missing the door trim, half the baseboard is gone, and the tile in the shower has aging, mildewy grout.  So even when it’s clean, it doesn’t feel clean.  Eventually we’ll have to gut it and start anew, but that’s got to wait.  We’ve got bigger fish to fry, namely having siding put on the house next summer.

At any rate, I did start on the semi-annual (kidding, but just barely) cleanage today between bouts of ague.  Eventually I found myself standing at the sink scrubbing mildew off of Dora-The-Explorer themed tub toys.  And I reflected about the several times I had done this very thing, the scrubbing of the hateful black slime off of the toys, and I revisited the familiar theme of how much I hate tub toys because of their inevitable sliminess and how they remind me of the decay of modern society and the futility of it all.

Usually at that point I reconsider antidepressants, but that’s a different blogpost altogether.

Now, I’d already tossed a whole mesh bag of other horrible mangy tub toys in the trash, but these Dora ones would be too sorely missed by the child most likely to lose her mind over their disappearance, the youngest of all.  We call her Miss Moodler.  She is four, and going through a stage of four-year-oldness that is rarely seen in captivity, owing to the scarcity of survivors.  She is a sturdy little person and an utter delight when being slightly less FOUR than usual, but hoo boy.  I think we have a future rugby player in our midst.

And so I scrub the creeping black crud from the various crevices of Dora and Boots.  Because little people in our house love these stupid toys, and we love our little people, and so we do these things for them.  We scrub and we fix and we find and we soothe and we give and we do.

(Also: Ew.  Monkey crevices.  I WILL NEVER FEEL CLEAN AGAIN.)

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