The magic of chores.

In Uncategorized on June 14, 2012 at 7:18 pm



I’m awful at chores. It is something that you are supposed to get better at the older you get. You are supposed to be able to pick up after yourself and remember to do little things like dust or the running of the occasional vacuum. Not me. I’ve never quite figured it all out thanks to the movies. Chores were always portrayed as something magical. Something you do to bring good karma into your life. Its almost as if a single mother called up every movie studio and said, “For the love of god would you please find a way to make chores look appealing so that I can get some help around the house from my rotten kids.” 

And they did. Chores were suddenly magical. 

Cinderella mopping a floor and singing. I mean, c’mon. Homegirl was clearly having an awful day. She wasn’t going to be able to go to the ball and here she is singing to the mop. You just knew good things would come her way because she took the time to polish the floor of those awful step-sisters. Good karma heading your way, Cindy.

And what about Snow White? Snow White loved cleaning so damn much, that she went to another person’s house to clean.  Whistle while you work. Whistle while you work. And what happens to Snow White? She’s saved from death. What’s the message of the story? Not, “someday your prince will come”…oh no. The actual message is, “do your chores and you will someday be woken up from death. Death people. Whistle while you frickin’ work. It’s brilliant, really. 

The only princess I truly admire in the chores department is Ariel. What a frickin’ hoarder. Not only is her family financially well off, but she hoards everything. You’ll never see her cleaning the sea palace. She just adds collectibles to the mess. Gotta love Ariel. The only princess I can relate to in this category.

What about Wendy Darling? I guess I can appreciate Wendy in the cleaning department as well. Wendy didn’t do chores. She let Nana do everything. Come here puppy and pickup the blocks. Wendy, you’ve got the right idea.

I grew up with Mary Poppins and Pippi Longstocking. A woman who was capable of making the toys fly into place, and a girl who strapped sponges on her feet to clean the house. Chores were suddenly looking fun to me. Maybe this was something I could handle. One day, my mom caught on and asked me to vacuum the floor. I don’t know if she was thinking that perhaps I would whistle while I worked, or if she could get me to believe that a prince would be in my future if I did this one awful deed. What did I do? I took one look at the vacuum and cried. Cried. I can’t explain it. To me, vacuuming was an adult duty. Vacuuming meant you were no longer a child. So instead of vacuuming, I cried. I’m kind of the same to this day. I don’t do my chores with grace and ease. I put off running errands until the last possible second. I’m pretty much the worst grownup ever. And I’m ok with that. 


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