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.

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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.