Degrees

My house is in total turmoil. It's because it's cleaning day. And no of course I'm not doing the cleaning. You have to get a degree for that, and it's a subject which never caught my attention. I don't think that looking back at everything clean after having spent 2 days slaving is a lot of fun. I don't think that making whites brighter than white is fun either. And the idea of a morning out at the detergent shop is appalling. I've much better things to do, write here ahem. I cannot and will never understand why women offer you advice as to cleaning products at the supermarket, with that knowing smile, as if they were offering advice on the latest flavoured and shine-in-the-dark rubbers. Because that's exactly the kind of smile they give with their advice, it comes in a package. It's a coy smile, as if they were trying to say, you know, try this, you won't regret it you know, wink wink. Yeah right, I wouldn't regret Hagen-Dasz, I know that. I wouldn't regret Dior and Estee` Lauder. But Svelto? Who the hell cares? Detergents all look the same, whether it's Fabuloso, Lenor or whatever. And yet I don't suffer a filthy-house syndrome, thanks to my good friend who can make it sparkle. I can't. I just don't know how to do it. And yes I'm a girl. But that doesn't matter. Nowhere does it say in the Bible that Eve was created to wash and scrub. On the contrary, God told them (Eve and her partner) to go forth and multiply. Ok I haven't yet got down to understanding multiplication, you need a Maths degree for that. I've just gone forth, well, some people are slow. At least I've managed the first bit. Pity you can't get a degree called 'Gone Forth'.