Cleaning house got me like

I’ve been noticing a lot of people are dancing while cleaning. Who is responsible for this garbage? WHO?!

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This concept is just plain unrealistic and quite honestly confusing to me. Never have I felt emotionally capable of dancing while cleaning.

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And like, did he actually sweep anything up or is he just playing with my emotions?

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Don’t even get me started with this hip thrusting nonsense. It is scientifically impossible to feel sexy while vacuuming. Never the twain shall meet.

Let’s be real.

This is more accurately representative of floor day (aka rage mopping):

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Or wiping up anything in the bathroom (tears have extra scum-removing power):

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All the Windex feels:

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Have you ever asked your kids to help you clean, thinking it would be “a fun way to get them involved while teaching responsibility?” HAHAHAHAHA

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And you’re barely keeping it together as they reap further destruction, but pushing through anyway.

“Great job, sweetie! Mommy’s big helper!”

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IT’S. JUST. SO. SLOW.

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Then reaching the breaking point like, “Okay that’s good just go play bye.”

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So then you turn to your honey for help:

“Hunz, can you do the dishes for me please?”

“Sure babe! Notta problem!”

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You find yourself distracted, picking apart his cleaning methods from the other side of the room like:

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Trying your hardest to just be grateful for the help and not micro-manage:

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And then they’re like, “Done! That was easy!”

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So you suck it up and quietly take care of the collateral damage when they walk out of the room like the clean queen. This is just who you are and you’re somewhat at peace with it.

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Until someone utters the fatal words, “When’s dinner, mom?”

It’s all over.

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