I wade through the murky depths of my apartment hoping to avoid cleaning it for another day. Shrouded in darkness the discarded clothes left on the floor, on the table, and on the couch make the room look as if there has recently been an invasion of The Body Snatchers.
Dishes piled high in neat rinsed stacks waited to be placed into the dishwasher. They look at me each day with disapproving eyes shaming me with their presence. Each plate, each cup, each saucer seems to say the same thing to me, “Your mother taught you better than this!”.
In my defiance I just remove my clothing and toss it in a heap on the living room floor. I parade around rebelliously like a college student in his freshman year. I flip through a stack of magazines; Runner’s World, MuscleMag, and Muscle and Fitness. I pause to look at Michael Chiklis on the cover of Muscle and Fitness and think to myself he’s come a long way since The Commish.
The apartment is warm. I was taught to conserve energy so I keep the thermostat at 80 when I am away. Sauntering over to my ever-inviting plum purple couch I prop pillows behind my back and beneath my calves. I turn on the telly and watch Oprah and then the news.
For an hour or more I luxuriate in the gloriousness of no responsibility wondering if there is anything more to life. Pulling myself up from the couch I move to my bedroom where my unmade bed stares at me blankly, I stare back resisting the miniscule urge to make it. An unnoticeable smile crossing my face like a kid who has just gotten away with stealing a cookie from the cookie jar.
Dressed I make my way to the gym and as I walk out the door my apartment begs me 0ne last time for a good cleansing, but the pleas fall on deaf ears. I shut out their cries because that is what we single men do.
This is the first time in my life that I have ever not had a clean apartment and I realize that the time will come when I will be married with children and my wife will expect a clean house, and I myself will expect a clean house. But for now, I am going to enjoy the fact that I will clean things whenever I darn well please and sometimes that feeling of doing something whenever I want is better than the feeling of a clean house.