The Old I Don’t Have Time To Clean Act

I Don’t Have Any Time To Clean

Why? Because living in this city feels like drinking intensely aromatic, full-bodied coffee from a firehose. While I haven’t left work before 6:30 (at night) this entire week, I’m not about to start complaining because I didn’t choose the busy life — it chose me.

Work isn’t the only culprit that captivates my clock. All my Post-It notes have been peacefully laid to rest because my to-do list has upgraded to Constitution-length parchment paper. Between conquering fitness goals (every day, no excuses), trying every Tapas restaurant in the city (I’m Paleo dieting between juice cleanses) and catching up with long-lost friends, I barely have any time for introspection and, her fraternal twin, self-reflection.

That’s why I spent all of Saturday exhaustively grappling tough questions I’ve avoided for far too long. Should I upgrade to Spotify Premium? Should I go to Darren’s 12:45 pm spin class in East Village or Stacy’s one o’clock in West Village?

I’m going Hamlet choosing between Darren’s holistic fitness experience and Stacy’s (ultimately) rewarding dungeon of perspiration. That reminds me — it’s time to set some reminders on Google Calendar. If I’m not super-duper careful, I’ll end up paying for Netflix in 3 months.

Honestly, I’m trying to responsibly reduce my dependency on Netflix. I got back into reading recently and have been on a total tear — I’ve already zipped through 5 heavy thinkpieces online. A guy who was once in my prom group (he’s fat, balding, and married now) benevolently shared one on Facebook during the workday. It had enough likes to warrant my complete semi-divided attention, so I took the plunge.

After getting through the first four words in the title, I was downright mortified. Did you know, that right now, at this very second, you’re probably dehydrated? I managed to hobble over to my Macbook and order a case of 36 Aquafinas via Amazon Pantry (has Pantry transformed your life yet?).

A cardboard oasis showed up to my six-floor walk-up in 36 minutes. I’m always left in a pool of inspiration after the delivery guy zips off into the Brooklyn wilderness afterward — how did he get to Williamsburg so quickly? If only OkCupid worked like that.

I’m out of reasons to be out of shape So I did something revolutionary: I started running. My body has basically adopted my Fitbit like a matching kidney. I’m training for a 5k (non-charity). It’s a warmup for a half-marathon (I need a new profile picture). I’m eagerly hoping the half will be for charity (100+ likes).

My calendar is actually eyes-wide-open for the next 20 minutes — or until the dryer stops hyperventilating. I force myself to make time for laundry every week. Sure, I can have some stranger pick it up and drop it back off in half the time it takes me to walk down six floors to my building’s basement, but how is that rewarding or civil? Not to mention, it’s grossly financially irresponsible (mom and dad, I hope you’re reading this).

I’m proud to say I’m getting better at making time for my parents — especially my Dad (my role model). I called him for the first time in a month and we had one of those natural, unscripted conversations. I finally feel like the nature of our relationship has evolved to “two grown adults” from “I can’t believe your mother and I thought you’d be a good idea.”

Here’s A Snippet:

Me: “Hey Dad”

Dad: “Hello stranger! Thanks for calling, how — ”

Me: “I’m busy but it’s ‘good’ busy, you know? I know we haven’t spoken in a whole month but I just called, to say, that you can now use Venmo to send my rent directly to the landlord and completely cut me out of the process. No more envelopes — paperless like its 2016.”

Dad: “Oh, ok. What’s — ”

Me: “I’m running late and my Uber’s here. Happy belated birthday!”

I’m surprised he didn’t ask about my relationship situation. The reality is this: I won’t have time for a significant other until my online dating routine becomes less taxing. I have gin cocktails tomorrow night, coffee on Friday afternoon and, for my ‘Sunday Funday’ weekend finale, a second date with the med-school student I had tacos with yesterday. Our chemistry is nuclear but I’m still worried things are moving too quickly — she’s already tagging me on funny (but true) Instagram memes.

Look’s Like The Dryer Is Winding Down

Soon, I’ll be in a trance-like meditative state as I transport this basket of springtime breezes to my bed. Hints of lilies meander into my nostrils as I gaze into the litany of garments splattered across my Casper mattress. I gently lift a lonely sock, warm-to-the-touch like a newborn brownie, and can’t help but ponder the duality of laundry.

So blissfully rewarding, yet so painfully arduous — every piece will require meticulous folding and appropriate storing. In an hour, there will be spotless serenity in my room, but right now, there’s chaos — the chaos of my life.

Still, don’t have time to clean? Call Maid sailors. That’s what we are here for.

This article received contributions from comedian Anish K. Mitra. 

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