Housework can kill you if done right.
The obvious and fair solution to the housework problem is to let men do the housework for, say, the next six thousand years, to even things up. The trouble is that men, over the years, have developed an inflated notion of the importance of everything they do, so that before long they would turn housework into just as much of a charade as business is now. They would hire secretaries and buy computers and fly off to housework conferences in Bermuda, but they'd never clean anything.
Few tasks are more like the torture of Sisyphus than housework, with its endless repetition: the clean becomes soiled, the soiled is made clean, over and over, day after day.
My idea of housework is to sweep the room with a glance.
Housework's the hardest work in the world. That's why men won't do it.
My idea of superwoman is someone who scrubs her own floors.
A man's home is his castle, and his wife is the janitor
When it comes to housework the one thing no book of household management can ever tell you is how to begin. Or maybe I mean why.
I don't hate men, I just wish they'd try harder. Theyall want to be heroes and all we want is for them to stay at home and help with the housework and the kids. That's not the kind of heroism they enjoy.
Always keep your home presentable, assuming you keep a home for purposes of presentation.
Composing a piece of music is very feminine. It is sensitive, emotional, contemplative. By comparison, doing housework is positively masculine.
I love it when my justifications for avoiding housework are actually legitimate.
Housework is like cleaning fish. No matter how often you do it, it still stinks.
People can say what they like about the eternal verities, love and truth and so on, but nothing's as eternal as the dishes.
One of the advantages of being disorderly is that one is constantly making exciting discoveries.
My theory on housework is, if the item doesn't multiply, smell, catch fire, or block the refrigerator door, let it be. No one else cares. Why should you?
I like the dry-cleaners. I like the sense of refreshment and renewal. I like the way dirty old torn clothes are dumped, to be returned clean and wholesome in their slippery transparent cases. Better than confesssion any day. Here there is a true sense of rebirth, redemption, salvation.
Growing up, I have discovered over time, is rather like housework: never finished.
If your house is really a mess and a stranger comes to the door greet him with, 'Who could have done this? We have no enemies!'
The important thing about women today is, as they get older, they still keep house. It's one reason why they don't die, but men die when they retire. Women just polish the teacups.
They shared the chores of living as some couples do-she did most of the work and he appreciated it.
Now, as always, the most automated appliance in a household is the mother.
Invisible, repetitive, exhausting, unproductive, uncreative - these are the adjectives which most perfectly capture the nature of housework.
At the worst, a house unkept cannot be so distressing as a life unlived.
You all know that even when women have full rights, they still remain fatally downtrodden because all housework is left to them. In most cases housework is the most unproductive, the most barbarous and the most arduous work a woman can do. It is exceptionally petty and does not include anything that would in any way promote the development of the woman.
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