I’m taking a small respite now, post supper, to communicate the importance of toil to my readers. Now that I’m selling my fucking house, readers are being falsely led to believe this toil I speak of has only now begun to occur.
Nothing could be further from the truth.
For over 20 years I’ve been hard at work, toiling during the day, well into the late hours at night. Often times I’d go on late night drives to the grocery store and buy $400 worth of food at 2am. Or, I’d scrub every square foot of my floors and WASH THE WALLS and trim work until everything shined like new. We are in a constant state of toil at House Fly and we never rest.
Crumbs on the floor?
Get the fuck up now and clean it up.
Stainless steel appliances defaced with a smudge?
Get out of the spray and fix it now!
Just today I fixed a piece of furniture, washed one of my couches, and scrubbed my floors with bleach powder. After scrubbing it, I washed the floors 6 times to make sure all crumbs and dirt were eradicated.
How do I get the grime from the grout?
Easy — oxygen bleach powder.
Ahead of me are 4 bathrooms and tomorrow morning I will need to scrub down the stoneware in the yard, picnic table, and a sundry of small items.
I’m pushing very hard to either sell or junk every fucking item in this house now, appealing to Mrs. Fly’s superstitious mentality with ideas of “this stuff is cursed!” Thus far, I’ve been unsuccessful. I do not want personal belongings anymore and would be very happy sleeping on nothing more than a mattress on the floor — and a hard wooden chair and a small desk to trade and blog from.
Until that dream is accomplished, I toil.
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