The Housework Muse

museAnyone have one of those – a muse that does housework? No? Me either. In fact, when I get done from the real job I come home and look around and shake my head, (especially if I’ve been travelling). I wonder why my muse can’t at least do the laundry, or…some damned thing.

Instead, when I come in the door she’s all about “Oh no, we have to talk about this, that, and the other thing…And while you were out worrying about money (apparently a dirty word) I’ve come up with this great idea for…”

So we look at the pile of dishes together, the floor that hasn’t seen a vacuum in a week (or is it two?), the cat desperate for attention (and food), and when was the last time the laundry got done?

“Okay,” I say. “Just an hour.” This is a lie we are both familiar with. If she was my partner (which she believes she is) she would smirk with that small I knew you would grin of victory and run to stand behind me as I fire up the pc.

Hours later I am ready for a beer, a shower, and bed. So once again I walk through the house turning out the lights (purposefully not seeing the mess) and ask why with all this modern technology I can’t find a gadget that will take care of these chores.

The muse, whispering from behind me, suggests one of those little robotic vacuum things that will freak the cat out, and possibly buying a new dishwasher to which she adds “you cheap bastard.”

She knows me too well, this muse.