I love being filthy. I want to be the filthiest woman alive. Filth is so great because it’s dirty and mucky and bad. I don’t like things that evoke propriety and moralism, but rather, things that celebrate rebellion and debauchery. Filth is just one byproduct of what I like to call ‘The will to badness’.
With these values of mine well established and usually uninhibited, I’m now faced with an all new and disconcerting dilemma. As you can imagine, my house is filthy, as per my ethos of filthiness. It’s a personal joy of mine to let my shelves accumulate dust and to never wash the toilet. I love cooking my baked beans over a stovetop that is blackened with char and spillages. Even the range hood fan doesn’t work properly because of all the grease that must be trapped inside (LOVE cooking food that’s bad for you!) But alas, my oven broke down and now I need to get a repairs guy over, and, I hate to say this, but I’m afraid of compromising my values…
ILVE oven repairs near Sydney don’t cost too much and are quite efficient, the least I could do for them is to clean the kitchen before they get to work.
Now I know what you’re thinking – what do I care right? Well, I don’t care what people think of me obviously, in fact, I’d love for people to see me as a filthy slob. But at the same time, I believe in complete freedom so long as you don’t step on anyone else’s toes, and I think this is a good way to live. It’s the libertarian way. A friend of mine who is very clean recently had Sydney Miele oven repairs and she didn’t care two-hoots about the repair guy’s comfort or safety. I mean, she didn’t open the door straight away cos she was ‘wasn’t ready’, she left this huge box of unpacked crockery in the way and didn’t move it for him, she didn’t even offer him a drink of water after the job was done. Just goes to show that filthiness and cleanliness are no reflection of character.