I’m not doing it

That’s it, I am never cleaning my house ever again. Wow, that was a bit harsh. Let’s try again; After due deliberation, I’ve decided to never clean my house from here on in. Yes, this is much more socially acceptable. Let’s run with it.

As I am Mr. Ohh! and frankly very needy, being socially acceptable is important. I want everyone to accept me. Even folks I think are idiots. Don’t get me wrong. Being an idiot isn’t necessarily a bad thing. I’m an idiot. If you don’t mind a bit of bragging, I’m an exceptional one to be sure. Just ask my children. They’re happy to tell anyone willing to listen, how big of an idiot I am. 

It takes levels

In my point of view, everyone’s an idiot to one level or another. Perhaps I should explain; If you stand on the lowest shelf of a store trying to reach the jelly of the top shelf, that’s basic idiocy. If you slip and cause six jars of pickles to fall and shatter all over the floor, this is next level idiocy. If you walk away casually, as if you never saw a thing, your rating reaches another plateau. If you blame the old woman in the cart nearby, that kicks you up another few notches. If you stand there waiting for a store employee to walk by, and tell them Dwane ‘The Rock’ Johnson rode in on a dragon, smashed the jars upon landing, refused to give you an autograph, then laughed and flew away saying he hoped you got in lots of trouble for his mess. That’s top tier idiocy with a with a high degree of stupidity I might add. Nine plus points out of ten in any judged event around the world. Also, you’d be a lot more fun at parties. By the way, everyone knows ‘The Rock’ only rides unicorns. Duh!

With all this being said, you’re probably wondering why I’ve decided to never clean my house again. Or, you might be wondering what level of idiot you actually are. If you really want to know, got to the market and find out. If nothing breaks at all, try again. You’re not doing it right.

My trio to the zoo

The reason I’m never cleaning again is because I went to the zoo. No, I did not hire a congregation of alligators to come clean the house for me. Yes, for your information that is what a bunch of those big lizards is called.

I think it has something to do with the fact they’re all from south Florida, and therefore all the same religion. At least I’ve never heard of protestant alligators. I’ll have to ask someone the next time I’m there. But I’m getting away from the point.

While at the zoo, I was watching some of the animal handlers moving the herd of elephants. When I asked why, I was told the animals get upset when their enclosure is cleaned. So, they move them to another area to keep them happy during the cleaning. I was intrigued, and asked if this was the case for all the animals. The keeper answered, “Pretty much. It’s just one way we use to keep the animals happy and the trainers safe.”

Happy habitat

I thought about this. I have animals in my house. Are they truly happy? When they wake up in the morning do they look around and think, “I am so happy,” before going back to sleep? Then I thought about cleaning and just how much area is their habitat. I realized I’m a terrible animal parent. And they’ve been trying to tell me this all along.

When I clean a room, the cat is invariably on the surface I want to clean. Up to this point I’ve ended up forcing the cat to move several times, in one room alone. Then I repeat the process in the next room. The cat repays my efforts by clawing my ankles to within an inch of their lives. What if this is her telling me I shouldn’t be disturbing her in the first place? Then again, she might be doing this because she enjoys it. You can’t tell with cats.

Dog days

Wonder Dog constantly stares at me when I’m washing the dinner dishes. She has a sad baleful look in her eyes. Am I ruining her habitat? Is she unhappy about the way things keep changing? Is her life being inadvertently shortened by me? Am I overthinking this to the edge of paranoia? Probably so, but the questions keep coming anyway.

I have caught her standing on the table licking plates clean. In my brain this is bad. On the other hand, that table is a part of her habitat. Every zoo will tell you, “Make an animal’s habitat as close to nature as possible.” Just because I’ve never heard of dining room tables in the wild, doesn’t mean ancient wolves didn’t lick the plates of the cavemen. I never took anthropology in college. It could have been mentioned.

What if I’m accidentally ruining W D’s habitat. I could be directly responsible for her not hearing the call of the wild. Then again, I monitor my phone calls and I don’t remember ‘The Wild’ calling. Not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. I’ll have to recheck my caller-ID. Or perhaps read Jack London. That book bored me in high school, but there could be something in there about how and when the ‘Wild’ calls.

Overachieving lizard

Then there’s my son’s skink, Zeus. Who in their right mind names the smallest creature in the house after the king of the gods? It’s bound to give the creature an inflated opinion of itself. Why not just name a goldfish, Universe? There’s no way possible it could ever live up to its name. It’d probably die of shame in a couple of weeks. Then again, in my house they never live much past then anyway. But this is beside the point.

Either way, my son tells me Zeus is highly susceptible to harsh chemicals and cleaning products. I spent a couple hundred dollars to create a small tropical habitat, and he’s telling me it can’t even share the air with the rest of the house. So much for Lemon Pledge!

Bunny ears

Then there’s Baby-Bun-Bun. With those big rabbit ears, she runs and hides no matter where I try to run the vacuum cleaner. I got shushed in the zoo once. Apparently, noise is an integral part of an animal’s habitat. How was I supposed to know? Nobody ever said anything when I went to the shelter to pick her up. If it’s so freaking important, somebody should’ve mentioned it. But no, they just took my money, put her in a cardboard box and sent her home.

So, there you have it. I’m never cleaning up the house again. I’m just going to sit in my big chair and do nothing. My wife seems to think I’m a lazy slob. But I keep trying to tell her I’m making that sacrifice in order to keep our animal friends happy and healthy.          

That’s my story, and I’m Sticking to it!!!