PASSION OVER PRACTICALITY

Housework.

Blech.

It's maddening because it never stays done.

One's sense of accomplishment after an entire day spent cleaning is fleeting. A couple dirty dishes left on a cleared kitchen counter or a rogue piece of popcorn left to litter a pristine kitchen floor, and BOOM!

All one's hard work is negated. In mere seconds.

Oy!  The cruel impermanence of it all! No wonder June Cleaver was a closet drinker.  

C'mon now, you just know she was.

Anyone who smiles as she feather dusters the tops of her doorways while donned in a dress, heels and pearls, knowing full well she'll have to be back at it again and again and again, is most likely sneakin' a nip of somethin' at some point during her day. 

I'm thinking what June needed in her life -- especially after The Beave and Wally were both older -- was something more creative, more challenging than housework. Something like, say, 40 Days of Writing. Or maybe she needed a blog.

I only suggest this because 40 Days of Writing -- and hence, 40 days of blogging --  is certainly giving me a much-needed sense of accomplishment. A sense of accomplishment makes me happy. And you know what they say: When Mama's happy, everybody's happy.

Writing/blogging, of course, is somewhat time consuming, so for the past 19 days, housework has taken a major backseat seat to my blog.

Oh, who am I kidding? Anyone who knows me knows I've never put my total heart and soul into keeping a spotless house.  In fact, I've always adhered to what some might call a juicy rationalization (I  call it a soul-satisfying philosophy) that a clean house is a sign of a boring life.

Ergo, I maintain that a thorough blast through the bungalow once a month armed with a gallon of Tylex, a Mr. Clean Magic Eraser (Extra Power, of course), and a super-suck vacuum usually does the trick.

Leaves more time for blogging these days, anyway.

Passion over practicality?  Perhaps.

But one thing is certain.

A sparkling toilet in one's bathroom remains sparkling for but a moment. A blog post in cyber space lasts forever.

Poor June and her secret sipping.

Alas, there but for the grace of modern technology -- and 40 Days of Writing --  go I.