On Cleaning

I've awoken to a gorgeous day, a cracking hangover and a deep unease in my belly. Surely the people of this nation haven't elected a bible bashing neo-conservative who hates the gay community, still holds to neoliberal capitalist economic ideals and has the same patronising reaction toward women that I have when I see a cute puppy. Surely we're cleverer than that. I'm going to Sweden.

Dear reader, I work for a man who will be delighted by our new Jesus-worshipping potentate. There are no skewed values like a wealthy families. Remarkable things the rich do (or make the hired help do for them):

1. Everything must be ironed. Silly pleb, did you think ironing was a perfunctory swipe across a business shirt? Wrong. Sheets, tea towels, underwear, t-shirts all need ironing. The bath mat needs ironing. Socks need ironing. Status is a fragile thing, and one ill placed crease near a well shined shoe (a nightly task for me, if you were wondering) can destroy it.

2. Things are only meant to be worn/used once before washing. This includes pyjamas and bath towels. What drought?

3. Oxidisation is unnatural and not to be tolerated. If there is but a taint of brown on an apple, it is unfit for human consumption and must be binned.

4. You are only as good as the cleanliness of your front porch. It needs bi-weekly mopping, or else you might as well smoke crack in a bin liner outside the Hungry Jacks on Swanston Street.