I
n light of my traumatic dust bunny
invasion, I have claimed this week's goddess. She is Holda, the Germanic
goddess who overseas women's domestic tasks. Here's a story about her:
Once there was a mother and two daughters. Every day one of the daughters -- the good daughter -- would go outside and spin her flaxseed into linen over by the well, while the other daughter slurped up caramel frappacinos at the nearby Starbucks.
One day, the good daughter pierced her finger while spinning and accidentally dropped her spindle into the well. Knowing that her mother would disown her for her carelessness, the good daughter threw herself down the well to die. But -- HA -- Holda found her and took her to her house. There, Holda tested the good daughter in all manner of domestic tasks. When the good daughter proved industrious and obedient, Holda covered the good daughter in gold and sent her home to her mother.
The frappacino-slurping daughter got totally mad. "Why does she get to be covered in gold?" She asked. "What about me? Why don't I ever get anything good? It's not fair." And she jumped down the well to find Holda.
Well, she found Holda all right. The sister was all, "How come you like my sister better than me? How come you gave her all that cool stuff? How come you live in a well? It's really wet down here, you know that? Plus, it's cold."
Holda said, "Spin, maiden."
The sister said, "Ok." And she twirled in circles.
Holda said, "Sweep up these viperous dust bunnies, and absorb their minion dust particles in this rag.
The sister said, "Don't you even have cable?"
So Holda covered the girl in tar and sent her back to her mother with a note that said, "I would advise you to hone this one's administrative and managerial skills. It's your only hope."
Holda teaches us that women who spend three days staring down viperous dust bunnies before actually getting out the vacuum should not expect any rewards when they are finished. They should definitely not expect their modeling of poor housekeeping skills to inspire their children in any positive way. And they should absolutely not think that said vacuuming absolves them from dusting or cleaning toilets.
For, indeed, as I bent said dust bunnies to my very will this morning, as I sent them fleeing from the house, I heard them murmer: "We'll be back! And we'll be more powerful than before."
Holda -- who I begged for help -- told me she would only chip in if I developed some sort of regular cleaning system. A regular cleaning system.
I just ... well, I couldn't commit.
Sigh.
So she left. And the toilets are still dirty.
Channel Holda: If you are a better person than I. Believe me: the tar, not such a great fashion look.