Routine Rituals

Periodic occurrences. A written communication that forces the tenants to a frenzy mode. On a fateful day, while checking my mailbox I discovered that catastrophic letter. With just four days’ time to transform the messy home into a spotless haven and with a few days of having neglected domestic chores for valid reasons, I realized I had lot on my hands. Entertaining optimistic thoughts is one thing and rising to the occasion is another. When I started my cleaning schedule, I foolishly convinced myself that if I divide my chores evenly, I would be able to meet the deadline effortlessly or at least as planned. However, when I returned after work, the physique did not share the same enthusiasm as my psyche.

Each day became packed with schedules and I ran helter-skelter to do justice to my list of chores. Vacuuming, bathroom cleaning, mirror cleaning, laundry, window cleaning, mopping and polishing the wooden floors, dishwashing, mowing, linen etc. the to-do list became longer as it neared the allocated day. Even though flawless, I managed to make the house presentable to the inspector. I had overlooked a few things but was pleased with the overall effect.

The day of home inspection arrived and I waited for the rasping knock on the wooden door of the entrance to the modern townhouse in which I currently resided. After a few misleading vehicles screeching to a halt before the building, I eventually heard the much-anticipated knock. Formal greetings were followed by general enquiries about well-being. Inspection began and as usual the inspector examined every nook and cranny while clicking photos away with his mobile phone. Contrary to the previous inspections, feedback on what needed extra care was provided as I presume the building has started to show signs of wear and tear caused by occupants.

WATCH FROM 1:46 TO THE END

It was the aftermath that was interesting. As soon as the inspector left, I could barely keep my eyes open and my whole body was ravaged by pangs of hunger that overwhelmed me. Amidst arguments about the choice of cuisine, I placed an order for pizzas, a choice upon which we mutually agreed. Food was delivered at the expected hour. Within seconds the order delivered was devoured by two ravenously hungry individuals.  A few minutes later, exhaustion and body ache claimed the length of my physique and I just dropped dead on my bed until midnight. I realized that procrastination is the worst crime.

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