Few things are more satisfying than a session hard at it on the kitchen floor.
Even on a hot day, as the sweat trickles down into the small of your back, even while the kettle’s boiling, you can still make those three minutes count. And they be can be oh so satisfying.
Or in the bathroom. It can be tough as it’s a small space, but you can hold onto the walls, grasp at the slippery tiles or the shower curtain. But sometimes, when you’re hard at it you can be so oblivious to your surroundings.
But I keep thinking back to the kitchen. I’ve had some amazing times in the kitchen. On the worktops. At the sink. On the drainer. Right up close to the cupboard doors. The gentle hum of the fridge disguising the sounds, the throes and the jubilant cries of a sublime moment.
Have to say, the bedroom is good. Sometimes getting down to it on the carpet, getting down there between the legs and thrusting your end in where it’s so desperately needed… It’s unforgettable. But you can get some serious carpet burns. Believe me. I know.
I’m talking about cleaning.
And I was talking about hoovering under the bed. Leaning down on the carpet and putting the end of the hoover between the legs of the bed. Obviously. Or the sublime moments in the kitchen when you get that little bit of dirt off the floor, just by the cupboards. With a bit of elbow grease and some hard work.
I love cleaning.
Sometimes, in a quiet moment when shopping, I slide unnoticed down the cleaning products aisle. I hope no-one notices me at least. I feel so naughty. I look about but often go when the shop is quiet. Late.
I look at the products. The wipes, the antibacterial sprays, the all-purpose cleaner. I touch them. I take their tops off and smell them. I finger the trigger and hold them softly in my hands.
I see someone. I hurry and put it in my basket and cover it with a copy of ‘Naked Nuns Monthly’ to disguise my shame.
I pay at the self service checkout, so I don’t have to waste time waiting, and hurry back to my flat, breath catching in my throat as I rummage in my trouser pocket for my doorkeys. I can’t wait.
My heart is beating faster, faster, ever faster. Thudding in my ears.
The key enters the lock. I twist and burst into the hallway, panting hard.
Hot, sweating. I compose myself.
I look around.
I see the flat is spotless.
I look into my shopping bag and see what I’ve bought. A bottle of Dettol Anti-bacterial Multi-Action Complete Clean. I take it out of the bag and put it in the cupboard under the sink with the other 4. I look longingly at them, take a moment, and close the door. Somewhat ashamed. I walk away. I think about looking back but I don’t. I can’t. I keep walking away.
The walk of shame.
I do love a good hard clean. Right into all the nooks and crannies. Starting small sometimes and, often unexpectedly, I find myself just being taken over and going for it. Hard and full.
Am I the only one? Please share with the group. And thanks for reading.