As posted over at RevGalBlogPals (and Lord knows you don’t need to be a Rev or a Gal to play this one):
In honor of the devotional I have not yet written about Herod’s rather inhospitable behavior toward John the Baptist, I present to you the Dirty Deeds Friday Five.
You will no doubt be shocked to hear that Lesley Gore recorded a cover of “Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap.” Please name five deeds you have performed unwillingly, half-heartedly, resentfully or inadequately. Feel free to interpret the word “deeds” as loosely as suits you.
(Quote AC/DC if you wish, but please confess to no actual crimes.)
1. I find cleaning toilets a nasty little job. Obviously it’s better if you do it more often, so they don’t get too gross, but I am a busy woman. Also, three guys live in my house. Need I say more?
2. Scooping the litter boxes is also repulsive. (Is there a theme here? You bet.) Even the clumping litter doesn’t help that much. But it beats the heck out of washing clothes or towels that have been used in place of the litter box.
3. One beautiful April day last spring, Pure Luck and I spent well over an hour picking up the dog “gifts” that had been in the backyard under the snow all winter. This year there is no snow, so it won’t be as bad a spring reclamation project. It was warm that day, and we kept saying to each other, “We couldn’t possibly find a better way to spend this beautiful sunny day! We couldn’t possibly have anyone nicer with whom to spend it!!”
4. Years ago, before I knew Pure Luck, we had a winter in which the snow frequently turned to rain. I remember standing in ankle-deep water atop an inch of ice, trying to shovel the water onto the snow in my yard to make the sidewalk passable for the letter carrier. Miserable.
5. Worst job ever: cleaning the hamster’s cage, back in the day. We had one hamster, Squeaky Brown, a neurotic little fellow who lived with us from 1994 to 1996 before meeting the Maker of Hamsters two days after The Father of My Children and I told the children we would be separating later that week. One of our last acts as a family residing together was to bury Squeaky Brown in the backyard of the tall yellow house where we lived. That was a very sad day.