I begin to think cleaning - all cleaning (weeding/landscaping included etc) - is pathological: a pageant of denial, a refusal to confront the abyss of being, of what time always insists on; what is, in its depths, the only thing time can Mean

Cleaning as totem not only of domesticity, of stasis of space- but of kinesis of time. The plastic bag's speech on 30 rock is one of the most intelligent things I've ever heard on television.