more power to ya, sister


One of my cleans is a post-punk mom somewhere in her late 30’s – early 40’s. She and her hubby live in a compact 3 bedroom unit in a housing co-op. She has one daughter from a previous marriage who is around six or seven, another around four, and a set of twins one and a half years old with her current hubby. Her mom, a rock star, got her the bi-weekly two hour clean when the twins came. There are so many toys spilling out everywhere. Eco-conscious toys, wool felt booties, and lambskin throws abound. Holy crap, I don’t know what I would do with all those kids. Self-medication is a given. 

One time I went outside to ask her about something, and she tried to hide the vape she had been sucking on. I thought, “No shame on my account. I’m impressed you don’t have mickeys of booze hidden in every room.” She is an artist, and her past work is hung nicely around, but I don’t see a working studio space for her. She was gearing up to take a math course at a local university. More power to ya, sister!

Ah, the female life, where finding your way can be challenging. Our bodies do these strange things. I’ve noticed now that I’m in my 50’s (gulp) that I sometimes smell different. I’ve got a keen sense of smell, and I like knowing that my snatch smells just like a good clean pussy should. And I’ve had enough men tell me that it is delicious smelling and tasting to confirm what I know. On occasion, I now get these weird smells, and my clit becomes the epicenter of an intense burning sensation that strikes like lightning and is gone immediately. I wonder if my clit has become a sprinkler head for super irritating hormones. What the actual fuck is going on?!?

These are the things I think about while cleaning floors, along with memorizing which spots are not coming off these beautiful hardwood floors because some lazy asshole painter couldn’t be bothered to put drop cloths down. Or even taking a damp cloth after painting that area and easily wipe off the paint before it adheres forever to the floor or bathtubs (for the love of God, is nothing sacred?). In my tiny basement apartment, there is one small area that has hideous shag carpeting. And some donkey taped off the baseboards but got paint on the carpet. How do you even do something that stupid? 

As Vizzini would say, “It’s inconceivable!”

excerpt chapter 6: rad fluid & the sprinkler head

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