Eds Note: This just occured to me.
By Bill Coady
After a couple of weeks here in the Wisconsin deep freeze you start to go a little stir crazy, and the mind turns to anything that might be a harbinger of spring. It has been so bad lately, this need for spring, that my fancy has turned to mopping. Yes, even spring cleaning has some appeal to me if it will break the below zero parade currently passing by.
Having my mind turn to spring cleaning is certainly a sign of complete desperation or perhaps even the apocolypse. Anyone who has known me for more than a couple of weeks knows I am a complete slob. Saying that I am a “pig trough slob” is a no-brainer on the order of saying Dubya is “A little slow on the uptake.” Or saying that his “Dick shoots prematurely.” Even a knuckle dragging Neanderthal emerging from a cave freed from the ice by global warming after 30,000 years would recognize these simple truths.
I don’t know even where to begin to describe my lack of housekeeping prowess. Perhaps one example might suffice. Most people might occasionally get a dust bunny or two. I have dust dragons. Winged fire breathing creatures, with thick scales, razor sharp claws and teeth. Dragons that mainline Dragon Chow directly from Chernobyl. Dust dragons whose seething sulfurous emissions (much to my chagrin) actually improve the smell of the room. These are the kind of dust dragons I have. Creatures that it would take the amazing powers of Harry Potter to dislodge from under the bed or davenport.
Oops, sorry, I didn’t mean to use that kind of language on a family blog here in Wausau. See, where I come from, “davenport” is not a city in Iowa. It is a “sofa” or a “couch.” In fact, having been born in New Jersey, I didn’t even recognize that Iowa was a state until recently. All the geography we needed to know was contained in the Philadelphia Phillies schedule. If they didn’t play there, it was obviously foreign soil. As far as I know, the Phillies never played in Iowa, so it must not be part of the United States. Occasionally, the Phillies roster would feature someone who had been born in Iowa, but we always figured that it was an island in the Caribbean, like the Dominican Republic or Jamaica. And if the player’s birthplace was listed as “Davenport, Iowa” we assumed this was sad commentary on the lack of hospital space on the impoverished island. But I digress. Ummm, where was I?
Oh yes, spring cleaning. I really, really need some of that around here. To be frightfully honest, my house looks like the Munster’s – and they have been dead for some 40 years. At this point I am pretty sure that the cobwebs are actually keeping the molding around the ceiling in place. Did I just say “molding?” Maybe I shouldn’t have said that, some people have sensitive stomachs. I hate to think of the image this conjures up in my kitchen.
I have thought seriously that since I am so resource limited when it comes to actually swinging a mop or broom, that I should engage someone who might have a special talent in this area. Unfortunately I am also resource limited — financially speaking, that is — that it would have to be a direct trade of services. But then I ponder, what could possibly be a fair trade for taking on the dust dragons? Perhaps getting a few pomegranates at a Baghdad market? Listening to Bill O’Reilly for five minutes? Disarming a live nuclear device blindfolded? Hunting with Dick?
None of the same seem to hold the same dangers or excruciating pain that I am sure would entail from opening my closet unarmed. I don’t even want to think about what is there in the back, way back, in that dark corner. Whatever it is, I think it is drooling.
I guess I better get back to mopping the kitchen floor. At least it is out in the open where I can keep an eye on it. Unlike the dust dragons. And whatever it is that is drooling.