I live in a flat. Yesterday I went to see my downstairs neighbours because they took delivery of a parcel that I needed to collect. They are a very nice South American married couple in their late 30s. Very nice, amiable, respectable couple. While I was standing at the front door waiting for the husband to get my parcel, I was able to view a small section of their hall. It was really nice. It was very clean, it was warm and it was attractively decorated with South American style, looked like there was a little altar going on, with some flowers and a romantic portrait of the Holy Virgin. V interesting. Then the man came back with my parcel and I swiftly departed to let them get on with their weekend.
Today I get to do some urgent cleaning and housework because I have managed to get on top of work (hooray!). I just looked at my flat and not only is there a stark contrast between my flat and theirs, it is clear that I regard my flat as less an interior than an extension of Outdoors. There is cigarette ash in the hall under the skylight, in what is clearly an outdoor smoking area, the kitchen would not be out of place at a camping site at a festival and the living room floor is decorated with bin bags. This is how we living. No wonder I don’t have a boyfriend.
Get up and dance. The washing-up can wait for another five minutes.
Young MC: Bust A Move (1989)