As I said before, when I hit a dead end at work...or rather, even before I've done any work, I have a habit of escaping into housework and turning a blind eye to the difficulties before me, but I wonder just how far housework goes. Well, the old "sa sis se so" rule probably means things like sewing, cooking, laundry, and cleaning, but does something like repairing something count as housework?
During my childhood, in the 1960s, there was still a clear distinction between men's and women's work, and there was a social consensus that housework was a woman's job. My mother would repaper the shoji screens every few years, which could be considered part of housework. Meanwhile, my father would hang shelves and build bookshelves.
So does this mean that the work of a paperhanger is considered housework, and the work of a carpenter does not fall into that category? It certainly seems a bit of a stretch to call cutting lumber and plane the edges of cut pieces housework.
However, even so, since men and women are now integrated and there is no distinction between men and women's jobs, it would be a bit unreasonable to define housework simply because that is what mothers did in the past.
So how do we divide it? Well, it's the same with cooking or carpentry; if you do it outside the home and get paid by someone else, it's just work, but if you do it at home without getting paid, it's housework.
If you think about it that way, things like maintaining, inspecting, and repairing the house are actually respectable household chores, and I can find plenty of excuses not to work within the house, because my shabby house is in disrepair and in need of repairs everywhere.
For example, I think most homes have screens installed to prevent mosquitoes and other insects from getting inside when the windows are open, but my screen has deteriorated over the years from exposure to wind, rain, and UV rays, and is now in a pathetic state: tattered, torn, drooping, and flapping about in the wind.
Not only does this look embarrassing, but it also means that the window cannot be opened in the middle of summer, so something needs to be done about it as soon as possible, but for some reason I can't bring myself to do it, and every time I see the screen hanging down I feel bad, so I mutter to myself, "Oh well. I'll get to work," and get to work.
Why do I feel bad about this? Because at this point I'm not familiar with how to repair a screen door, and in order to fix it I'd have to search the internet, watch instructional videos, and do some other learning. That's just too much hassle for me.
To begin with, I hate working in a way that requires brainpower, and I enjoy doing housework that I can do mindlessly, so why should I have to use my brain for that? Don't be ridiculous. I feel a surge of anger welling up inside me, not knowing who or what I'm angry at.
So I set about working, but because I was angry, things weren't going well. So I said, "I can't work with this kind of feeling. There's no way I can," in a monotone voice, and then I closed the computer and got up.
As I walked around the house, I wondered when it had gotten to this point; it was full of problems, and the ice maker in the refrigerator had completely broken down about a year ago, and it was constantly making a poltergeist-like rattling noise.
Several light bulbs in the hallway are out and need to be replaced. The glass of the snow-viewing shoji screens is dirty and unsightly. The air conditioner filters haven't been cleaned in about a hundred years. In fact, it hasn't been cleaned normally for several days, so there is a nasty mess of dust all over the floor. The floor itself is also filthy. Not only are there water splash marks and mysterious stains in front of the sink in particular, but on closer inspection there are also rice grains, white sesame seeds, and dead insects lying around.
Oh, what a thing, what a thing...
I cried (and before I knew it, I had become myself) and stepped out the front door into the garden (the sandals I was wearing were ones I had bought at Don Quijote in Roppongi 25 years ago, with bright stripes on the top, the kind that would make you look uncultured after wearing them for just a few minutes, and I had been thinking for about ten years now that I wanted to buy a new pair).
When I looked closely at the garden for the first time in a while, I could see flowers here and there, but their branches and leaves were almost completely covered by mugwort, periwinkle, honeysuckle, Japanese mustard, Japanese bamboo grass, and crabgrass, making them almost invisible.
"That's no good."
Muttering to himself, he brought out a sickle and pruning shears from the storeroom and began cutting and plucking the grass. Of course, this was like child's play, and should only be done with a special machine called a brush cutter.
But since my goal is to escape from work, I just need to do it mindlessly. Warm sake is best. I lose track of time, and before I know it, I've been engrossed in it for about 20 minutes, and the cut grass has piled up. I need to do something about this, but it's too much of a hassle, so I'll leave it for another day. I'll give up on work for today, go buy a light bulb, and maybe pick up some kakiage while I'm there.
Then, thinking I might as well eat it with a stupid look on my face, I headed towards the entrance, where I noticed a roof that extended out over the front door, or rather the entrance itself was sunken, and that hollow was the entrance porch, or should I say, where fallen leaves had piled up in the corner of the porch. Thinking that if I left this, pill bugs, millipedes, centipedes and other insects would start to breed, I approached it and let out an audible "ah!"
It wasn't insects. So what was the problem? It turned out that the base of the pillar next to it, which was an important pillar supporting the roof, had been eaten away by insects or rot, and was completely hollow, no longer functioning as a pillar.
What would happen if this were left unattended? Of course, the house would collapse. But repairing it is no longer a chore. My daily life consists of two things: housework and work. But here a bigger problem than either of those has arisen.
Oh, my goodness, my goodness...
I muttered this twice, thinking, "I'd much rather work than face something this difficult," and opened the lid of my computer. So, to all my business partners, I'll be working hard for a while, so please bear with me. I'd rather not die if my house collapses and I'm crushed to death. It's already midsummer.
