As the title indicates, this week has been a disaster in terms of cleaning.
That brought some essential questions to my mind -- yes, perhaps even philosophical. Is cleaning necessary? Do we have to spend hours and hours every week on dishes, laundry, and hoovering? Not to mention dusting and picking up books that are lying around on the floor?
I spend rather a lot of time on it, but in spite of the small battles I win, I constantly feel I'm losing the war. Or if I'm winning it, it's a Pyrrhic victory to say the least. How much time of my life should I spend cleaning?
This week, I washed clothes and did the dishes. There's nothing dirty in my sink right now. I also threw away random papers and other meaningless things that were lying about on my table. But my floor is sandy, and books are accumulating, mysteriously, on my living-room floor. Should I just give in to chaos? What is the meaning of life?
P.S. For those of you who were looking forward to reading about piles -- do not fear, I will deal with that topic later.