It didn’t really dawn on me until we had already moved into our house but I have four toilets to clean. That’s a lot of toilets to clean and frankly it isn’t my favourite task. I’d rather clean just about anything else. Nonetheless I have four of them.
Whenever I I think about complaining (to myself) about cleaning the four stupid toilets in my house I remember when I had none to clean. There was a time, I was about nineteen, when I was homeless during my first pregnancy. My boyfriend at the time (not the baby’s father) would find us places to stay with his friends. We didn’t have a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of.
I was collecting welfare and he was doing nothing. He didn’t work, I did. I was a stripper before I started showing, and getting paid under the table. He and his friends would come and drink all the money I was making. I was invariably pissed off but he was physically abusive so I was hesitant to say anything. We were literally living hand to mouth, the little money left over from what I’d made would usually be enough for some fast food the next day and maybe bus fare. After I started showing I tried to work above board but it was never enough and I was better off not bringing in much money, he would just drink it all. But I digress…
It was a hard finding couches to surf night after night. I am grateful that not only do I have a stable roof over my head but I also have four damn toilets to clean.
My Phoenix Rising 