Life was a series of messes, and one spent one's time cleaning them up; if one had any heart at all one also gave a part of one's time to cleaning up those of other people.
Spring is the usual period for house-cleaning and removing the dust and dirt which, notwithstanding all precautions, will accumulate during the winter months from dust, smoke, gas, etc.
When all else fails, cleaning house is the perfect antidote to most of life's ills.
To be a social success, do not act pathetic, arrogant, or bored. Do not discuss your unhappy childhood, your visit to the dentist,the shortcomings of your cleaning woman, the state of your bowels, or your spouse's bad habits. You will be thought a paragon (or perhaps a monster) of good behavior.
Individuals interested in donating can call The Bridge. We do still need food, paper products, money, cleaning supplies - if people could call and coordinate donations. People loved donating clothing to The Bridge - it was an avenue; if they could put their focus on collecting cleaning supplies - toilet paper, food etc. - these items are a priority.
Even when couples share more equitably in the work at home, women do two-thirds of the daily jobs at home, like cooking and cleaning up--jobs that fix them into a rigid routine. Most women cook dinner and most men change the oil in the family car. But dinner needs to be prepared every evening around six o'clock, whereas the car oil needs to be changed every six months, any day around that time, any time that day.... Men thus have more control over when they make their contributions than women do.
Having been in a relationship since I was 18, I'm very domestic, but I don't enjoy cooking for myself. I don't mind cooking for other people... But I don't like cleaning or washing dishes, although I don't mind doing laundry.
we learn the process of emptying out, cleaning house, both within and without.
My life is gardening, cleaning around the house and power washing. I power wash everything: my wife, the mailman with the f-cking mail, power wash his ass, f-ck my mail up, I don't care.
There was a nobility in poverty when I was growing up. My mom was poor but she was planting roses and she was cleaning the steps, you know what I mean. You didn't feel sorry for yourself.
Life is a constant series of cleaning up the last mess.
At first, we lived in very, very small places... with my mom cleaning houses and scrounging up just enough to keep us in town with a working car. She introduced me to my first agent, and I started with stand-in work, then eventually commercials and television guest-shots.
God help anyone who disobeys my recycling system. I have all the separated bins. I'm very adamant about it because I try to be a good citizen of the world, I really do. I even use eco-friendly cleaning products, but sometimes you just have to break open the disinfectant. Some jobs require it.
I get the same buzz cleaning up the yard as Leo Tolstoy did from scything hay.
It wasn't long ago I was cleaning toilets and now I have protestors. How cool is this?
A "snapshot" feature in USA Today listed the five greatest concerns parents and teachers had about children in the '50s: talking out of turn, chewing gum in class, doing homework, stepping out of line, cleaning their rooms. Then it listed the five top concerns of parents today: drug addiction, teenage pregnancy, suicide and homicide, gang violence, anorexia and bulimia. We can also add AIDS, poverty, and homelessness. . . . Between my own childhood and the advent of my motherhood--one short generation--the culture had gone completely mad.
Meditation is the art of cleaning your mirror from all the dust that the society, the religion, the educational system has poured on you, to take away everything that has not been born with you, to bring you to your absolute innocence as you were born as a child.
I feel the change. I feel the relationship with New York changing. It's a personal relationship you have with the city when you move there. I definitely romanticize the early 2000s. As much as I prefer the city then as opposed to now, I'm sure if I were 23 and I moved to the New York of right now, I could have the same exact experience. I don't really hate the cleaning up of New York, even though it's not my preferred version of New York.
What I'm hoping for is something that goes much, much further than the conservative enablers of dog-eat-dog capitalism putting on a puppet show of cleaning house. But that's probably not going to happen just yet.
I felt like I already knew how to race by the time I was four. I was always at the race track with my dad. I watched him race thousands of laps in a sprint car standing on top of a trailer watching him, getting down and cleaning the mud off his car. That's just what I grew up doing.
Messy stuff irritates me. I don't like messiness. If you leave something around my house, I'll tell you to move it back, clean it up, throw it in the trash - don't matter, just get rid of it. I need stuff neat, organized. And once I start cleaning stuff, I don't stop until it's done. Otherwise I'm irritated all day.
I always say you can self-medicate through closet cleaning. Everyone knows that feeling of a clear surface, and how it makes you feel you can really focus and start your work.
I always sent my mother all these huge books I made. When my mother died, I was cleaning her cupboard, and these big books were only 20 pages long. She edited out, maybe burned, every single photograph where I'm naked.
Village reform is not merely cleaning the roads, constructing schools and worshipping monasteries. It is not mere celebration of festivals.
It's hard not to hate. People, things, institutions. When they break your spirit and take pleasure in watching you bleed, hate is the only feeling that makes sense. That's what I need to tell you. To let you know how hard I'm trying not to cave under the weight of all the awful things I feel in my heart. When I look at my day, I realize most of it was spent cleaning up the damage of the day before. In that life I have no future. All I have is distraction and remorse.
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