As me and my gal have moved house, and we're settling into the new place, and preparing the old place to be leased, all it feels like I've done in the past two weeks is clean. Which is not true, but my head feels like it's full of cleaning chemicals and at night I still hear the sounds of scrubbing. Either I'm high on the chemicals, or there's a cleaning ghost in the new apartment. I asked for helper dwarves one day, in a fit of "ahhh, screw this", so maybe I got my wish.... maybe at night a Fantasia-styled scene of automaton buckets, mops, and sponges whisks itself into action, and does all the work for us. Now THAT would be cool. Sigh.
In a recent moment of "bloody hell, when will this end" I wondered what the cinematic equivalent would be to my humdrum domestic chores. I first thought of Jeanne Dielman, but saying "I feel like Jeanne Dielman" is of course going to Wrong Town on the wrong bus, because her routine also involved male clients and stabbing one of them with a pair of scissors, and although I've inhaled more chemicals than Ozzy Osbourne, my life has not degraded itself to anywhere the same extent. My routine simply involves cleaning, shifting, fixing, unpacking, repairing, more cleaning, and getting fucked up on Pine-o-cleen.
I think the best cinematic equivalent I can think of right now is M-O, from Wall-E. Yes, that's me right now, an obsessive-compulsive microbe obliterator, raging against all the foreign contaminants that seem to keep popping up. I am M-O.