Today, I cleaned the hose of my vacuum. Not the hose that one uses to clean out the corners of one’s home, but that intermediary hose that reaches down under the vacuum and sends all the floor junk into the dirt canister. Maybe you know which hose I’m talking about.
I unscrewed the screws, pulled it out of its cranny, and stuck a silver chopstick right in there, pulling out balls and balls of fluff-dirt-lego amalgamations. They were delightfully antithetical to those yummy superfood bliss balls, and let me tell you, I got SO MUCH SATISFACTION out of that domestic, mundane task.
The kind of satisfaction one gets from pooping a large, overdue poop.
And yes, that really is the best-suited analogy for this situation.
And all of this has got me thinking about the culture of satisfaction in the post-industrial age. Sex, luxurious meals, spa days, “productivity,” these are all things lauded for the satisfaction they bring into our lives. But what about the satisfaction of maintenance?
The lingering high from cleaning out a vacuum hose, or pooping that overdue poop? The good-feels of cleaning out the super grody corners of the bathroom, the glow of the 32nd day of that 2 year meditation practice – or whatever. Some days, peeling myself off the floor and slumping into a warm shower can bring me that glory.
It’s not glamorous, but damn! It’s healthy and grounding and satisfying.
And it isn’t healthy to fixate only on the fast, new, and shiny. That’s imbalance, and imbalanced things topples under strain.
So here’s to celebrating the grimy and the grunge. Hip-poop-hooray!