My wife’s exact words to me was: Do you want to clean the toilets?

Do I want to clean the toilets? Of course, I want to clean the toilets. Who doesn’t want to clean the toilets? Truth be told, I am tired of my friends calling night and day asking if they can swing by and clean the toilets. “No!” I tell them. “These are our toilets! We want to clean them! Clean your own toilets!”

I lose a lot of friends that way, but a man has a right to protect the sanctity of his toilet and the cleanliness thereof.

That’s the problem with America today – not enough toilets to meet the needs of the toilet cleaning masses. Most houses have two, maybe, three toilets. That’s not nearly enough. People clean their two toilets then go out looking for other toilets to clean. Some of them are cagey about it. They swing by your house using some made up reason. The minute you turn your back there they are on their knees in your bathroom scrubbing the toilet.

“Out of here this instant,” you shout. “Clean your own toilets!”

At least you know the toilet cleaner in the case of friends. What’s truly scary is the lone wolf type toilet cleaner you hear so much about in the news. They sneak around neighborhoods, backpacks filled with disinfectant and toilet brushes, looking for vulnerable homes to break into. The unwary owner arrives home later only to find their back door kicked in and their toilets immaculate.

Scary.

Do I want to clean the toilets, she asks? What kind of crazy question is that?

With any luck, once I’m finished with the toilets, she’ll ask me to fold towels. I love folding towels almost as much as I love cleaning toilets. Hopefully, there are enough hand towels and wash rags thrown in to make things interesting. Like most people, if the toilets are clean and the towels are folded, I usually look for socks to sort.

Who doesn’t love to sort socks? That’s what I say.

Who can’t while away an entire afternoon matching one sock after the next after the next? If you’re like me, you’ll ignore invites from your buddies to go fishing or whatnot, just so you can match that next sock. And, if you’re collection of socks is anything like mine, many of them won’t have a match which means you get to go on a scavenger hunt of sorts trying to find the matches.

Joy!

Nothing tops off a good day of sock sorting like washing dishes. I especially love washing cups, because my hands are big and cups offer a challenge over and above the other dishes. I can’t reach to the bottom of the cup with the dish cloth without compressing my fingers to the point of discomfort. It builds character, if you ask me, crushing your fingers to wash a cup.

My favorite part of washing dishes is when my wife comes along afterward and critiques my work. It is never a good review, especially when it comes to the cups.

I’d write more, but our toilets won’t clean themselves – thank goodness.

Then I get to mop the bathroom and scrub the countertops. Did I mention cleaning the mirrors? It’s like magic how those streaks keep appearing no matter how often you wipe the mirror down.

Joy!