I am no domestic goddess. My cleaning lady is the only one who vacuums, I think washing fruit is for wussies, I rarely get around to baking because I’m too busy eating the batter, and I once bought a new pair of jeans because I didn’t feel like doing laundry. I’m a relatively good cook (save for my produce washing skills), but otherwise I’m devoid of whatever hard wiring Martha Stewart is made of.
Yet, there are a few domestic guilty pleasures I’ve acquired over the years that tell me I just might have a tiny little Martha hiding in there somewhere:
Cleaning Dryer Lint: If it weren’t for the rush of peeling away this magically colored fluff from its mesh prison, thereby releasing the smell of a freshly babbling mountain spring, I would have been one of those kids who always brought laundry home to Mom in college.
Peeling Shrimp and Crab: There’s nothing more therapeutic than ripping the shell off a crustacean with the deftness of a magician ripping off a tablecloth.
Squeegeeing: In guest bathrooms around the globe, at one time or another we find ourselves emerging from a satisfyingly sudsy curtain-less shower experience to face the to-squeegee-or-not-to-squeegee dilemma. Always go squeegee.
Pounding Chicken: I once promised a boyfriend I’d try making his favorite chicken piccata recipe. After covertly pounding those filets with the hammer from my toolbox, I knew I’d found a new talent. I immediately procured a meat mallet and have been a strict carnivore ever since.
Swiffering: It’s like a squeegee but for your much dirtier floor! It’s not so much the Swiffering itself that’s fun as it is looking at the bottom of it every five seconds to see how much grime you’ve collected.
Removing Price Tags: Whether it’s the cannot-return-once-removed stickers from Macys, the seductive mattress labels, or the obstinate bastards on the bottom of the wine glasses, I get an indignant thrill from scraping, ripping and scratching my way to purchase commitment.
While I admit the buzz of these activities eventually wears off, it’s usually just enough to make my home suitable to guests. Just please don’t inspect my floors.
Do you have any domestic guilty pleasures?