Tuesday, March 08, 2005
A couple of days ago I cleaned my apartment. It took forever.
It is now so clean, I can't even think when I'm there. The resulting austerity and order creates a lack of stimulus and a certain aversion to carrying out the smallest movement that may require you to have to clean up all over again afterwards.
Hell must be a place where one is condemned to relentless boredom. A just-cleaned apartment is as close to this type of hell on earth as you can get, and I wouldn't be surprised if it has ever driven a few people to insanity.
That's why one must only clean apartments once or twice a year, and then only if you're expecting guests for dinner. That way, their glib happy chatter as they move about your living room will provide the necessary aural and visual perturbations, and with some luck they'll absently fiddle with your CD collection as well. And if you've also done the cooking properly, you will have splattered and burnt enough spaghetti sauce to guarantee some pots and pans soaking in the kitchen sink for at least a week, thus giving your apartment a much more salubrious glow and making it finally habitable for humans.