A rotting vagina. A witches cackle. I feel like a vagina doesn’t rot from lack of attention, it rots when something nasty and unwanted goes inside.
I hope my fridge is not currently a metaphor for my vagina – it’s definitely past the garden stage and has serious dumpster vibes. (The fridge, not my vagina.) One vegetable drawer got cleaned out because it has become a science experiment for turning solids to liquids.. and gases. The immediately adjacent drawer wasn’t so bad in comparison – so it wasn’t even checked. Now the slimy carrots and onions-maybe have liquified… How many times will the three members of our household open the fridge door – think to ourselves, “huhgh, what a stink”, and then close the door again while silently blaming all of the lazy losers, besides ourselves, who we live with.
I mean, who cleans one veg drawer and not the other? Our family, I guess. What utter nonsense – I used to tell my kid to stop doing things half-ass, that if he’s going to do it, to use both cheeks – full ass it!
My cleaning rituals go bit by bit, chasing one pile of mess around the house until it gets slightly smaller and I feel relatively accomplished as an adult for the day. I wonder if my house was like the Moon and zero gravity, would it stay clean?
where rivers are born 