Wash That Man Right Out of My Hair
There is something so satisfying about cleaning. The parting of the dust, creating patterns with the vacuum and sweeping up that last pile of dirt. I think the Bleach is getting to my head…
Maintaining a clean house is a second full time job. Especially when I grew up around clean machines such as: My Grandma, My Mom, my brother Lance and Danny Tanner.
Danny Tanner on Full House was a single dad, raised three girls all the while keeping their gigantic San Francisco home in tip top shape. Talk about unrealistic. I have a townhouse, no children and it’s lucky if my coat gets hung up.
That is why I believe house cleaning expectations are outrageous. We:
- Clean up our clean laundry
- Wash windows after they’re rinsed with water
- Sweep steps that are outside
- Scrub the sink that cleans our dishes
- Clean the shower that cleans us
Hell, in South Pacific, they even washed men out of their hair. If I’m expected to wash every man out of my hair, in addition to my weekly chores, I might as well stay at home for the rest of my life.
I have no trouble keeping my place clean, but I do have trouble keeping myself clean…
In A Swing and A Miss, my timing was off. Today, my clothes were off and thrown in the laundry as soon as humanly possible.
One of our residents has the mannerisms of a womanizer (or deprivation). Pardon the pause. I just had a flash back to when bars were open.
Physical touch provides the resident with a sense of purpose, increases his mood and he’s almost worked out the knot in my left shoulder.
This afternoon the other Recreation Therapist and myself were planning a community outing when we were abruptly interrupted.
The resident entered the office like a bull in a China shop (a closed China shop). He attempted to stand from his wheelchair. He made every effort to ram all of the furniture in the office and he insisted on providing one too many massages.
Just as he was about to conduct a second massage, a Health Care Aid leaned against the door frame and asked the resident if he wished to wash up.
I assumed he meant to clean up after lunch. Until the Health Care Aid smirked and whispered, “because he’s been digging all day.”
Unsure what he meant by digging? All I will say is this resident is not contributing to the toilet paper shortage.
After that, I closed the office door to respectfully and privately sanitize. There was a lot of shoulder shimming in addition to the repetition of the word ‘icky’.
I can say (while cringing) that I washed that man right out of my hair as soon as I got home. I have also successfully avoided any future massages and social touching all together.
Stay safe, happy and home. I just so happen to know of a place where you can find 78 humour blog posts to pass the time.
