Sunday is Chores Day for me. Friday nights are reserved for chilling and slacking since the thought of a full long weekend ahead holds so much promise. This is the only time I actually allow myself to be lazy also. Saturdays are a bit crazy since I attend MA classes in the morning, have lunch dates with friends, hear anticipated mass in the evening, and go out with my family at night. Sundays on the other hand is a different story, it is my Chores Day. I wake up late so I usually am cramming by the time breakfast is done which is kind of a big affair in our family since this is the only time we get to sit down and share breakfast together in all the days of the week. After that I am off to doing chores.
We usually have our own niche’ at home when it comes to chores. My mom is the designated cook since she loves cooking. She rules in the kitchen in a way that I know I’ll never will no matter how much I try. She also does the laundry for us, for some reason, she likes doing it and is actually a bit addicted to it since she does this every single day maybe it me a whole mountain of or a few pieces only of clothes. My husband, on the other hand, is the real handy man in the house, this is the time when he fixes things, helps my mom in the kitchen and do little errands for us like go to the palengke, drug store or grocery store or bathe the dogs. My daughter, well, she’s sort of the runner in the house, she is at our beck and call, she does little things like get this or get that, while busy multi-tasking (read: reading books while watching TV or doing her homework while sneaking a read)
Me, I am the designated house cleaner. This is the time that I more or less turn the whole house over and scrape it clean. I love getting down and dirty just to reach the dark crevices where dust loves to settle down. I love destroying cobwebs and watching spiders scramble to get out of my way. I love putting some sort of order on things like our closet, bookshelves or magazine rack. It’s like these stuffs were just waiting for me to help sort their life out the whole week. At the end, I love sitting on the couch after roughing it out with the dirt to survey the whole scene and check if I missed something. Seeing our whole house spanking clean gives me such great satisfaction.
Sundays are also the time when I shed my sweet (do I hear objections from fiends there?) persona and become the real Iron Lady. Yes, I am that too. If there’s one place in the domesticated world where I am happy at, it is actually behind the iron board. I’ve mastered the art of ironing clothes. There’s something about ironing clothes that sort of soothes me. I love it when the iron glides over the cloth and flatten out creases. To me, there’s nothing like seeing what once was a pile of crumpled clothes all lined up in neat little hangers like soldiers ready for battle. It makes me proud everytime I get to straighten up clothes no matter how crumpled they get. It is like helping them look ready for the world again after their horrendous experience in the washing machine. I like how I can almost make them look brand new again no matter how bruised and abused they’ve become from washing. I guess when dealing with my family, friends, students and colleagues, I don’t mind being called the Iron Lady, as long as it is in this context.:)
Come to think of it, in this season of love, it is all the more important that we must all become real Iron Man or Lady without our iron boards. I mean when faced with conflicts or problems with our loved one, rather than “washing our dirty linens in public” we can instead focus our energy on ironing out the kinks in our relationship. I noticed that a lot of people do otherwise. Just like ironing clothes, I believe that all creases in any good relationship can be straighten as long as you let the heat of your love run through it.:)