Mr. Clean, Mr. Clean
In the past few days I have not exerted myself any more than normal. I know, such a loaded statement. The point is, my apartment is practically pristine. There are a few boxes in the corner and the office (aka Bruce-ville) is a wreck with boxes to be unpacked (STILL), but the living-room, both bathrooms, the bedroom, the kitchen and the dining area are all exactly as they should be: everything is at right angles and smelling fresh.
I think that I spent a total of 2 hours over three days cleaning. You know, normal put back what you took out type of things and a few loads of laundry. But the respective cleanliness is confusing to me. I have done nothing more than I normally do during a week and the apartment is a million times more orderly.
As I finished the third load of laundry and noticed the preponderance of “Bruce clothes” I came to the realization that Bruce is holding me back. You know how there is that Sesame Street game: one of these things is not like the other, well, that’s what I’ve been playing all week without Bruce. Except I’ve been playing Which one of these elements has not been around and thusly has not been causing a big mess (perhaps my games are slightly more detailed).
I think that what it comes down to is that Bruce insists on wearing clean clothes to work each day and likes to eat food that has been cooked.
I’m putting Bruce on notice: you get two pairs of pants a week, learn to double up; stop eating things that need to be cooked, you get one hot meal a week after that it’s cereal for dinner; no one needs a fresh shirt every day, turn that shit inside out; I’ll allow fresh socks and undergarments because I am nothing if not totally benevolent in my dictatorship.
Also: stop messing up the apartment.