daily chores Quotes

I have a problem getting all my laundry done, cleaning up and doing all of the normal daily things that a grownup should do.

There's one downside in comparison to both Soyuz and SpaceX, is that when you go to those places - when I went to Russia, or when I went to California - you're sort of focused on what you're doing. Your family's not there. Your lawn isn't needing to be cut. You're just focusing on what you need to do.

Marriage is not just spiritual communion, it is also remembering to take out the trash.

Everything is work on the farm.

You can get stuff done in New York that you can't in Los Angeles. If you wanted to get some milk and get your shoes repaired and drop something off at the dry cleaner, that's an all-day adventure in Los Angeles. In New York, you can bang that out in half an hour.

I don't get rattled about the big things. I get rattled when I have to pick up my laundry, get gas in the car, pick up a script.

I don't understand writers who feel they shouldn't have to do any of the ordinary things of life, because I think that this is necessary: one has to keep in touch with that... The ordinary action of taking a dress down to the dry cleaner's or spraying some plants infected with greenfly is a very sane and good thing to do. It brings one back, so to speak. It also brings the world back.

In fact, it comes to this: nobody is capable of really thinking about anyone, even in the worst calamity. For really to think about someone means thinking about that person every minute of the day, without letting one’s thoughts be diverted by anything- by meals, by a fly that settles on one’s cheek, by household duties, or by a sudden itch somewhere. But there are always flies and itches. That’s why life is difficult to live.

When you're by yourself you have to sort out everything like the shopping and looking after the house.

I live the most boring life, away from what you see me on camera doing. The other 300 days out of the year [not touring], I'm just the most normal person in the universe. I'm a wife. I'm a mother to my doggies. I'm a maid, and I clean the house. I'm pretty boring.

I get up early and open my emails, write cheques, and answer the phone; whatever needs to be done.

All those who run away to ashrams, thinking they are doing something great are just performing daily chores there - cooking, gardening etc. After all, the place has to be run.

As far as my favorite sites, I do a lot of mundane stuff on line because I travel so much.

When I go in, I find that it is not a lab but an office. There are a pile of letters to answer, phone numbers to call up, people waiting to have an interview, routine work that must be done.

I always forget about some of the things I've done, because you do 'em, and sometimes they don't come out, and... most of it's almost like daily chores or something. You check it off your list, and then it's gone.

Room service is nice. Ooh-la-la, a hotel. At home, it's laundry and school lunches.

There were times in my life when I had one thing to do all day, but I still couldn’t get to it. “I gotta go to the post office, but I’d probably have to put on pants. And they’re only open till five. Looks like I’m going to have to do that next week.

For many people, music is here to let them forget the daily chores of life.

Until I got older, I never dreamed of what a demanding responsibility it is to keep food in the pantry, to keep clothing neat and presentable, to buy all that is needed to keep a home running.

To me, spirituality is the everyday stuff which we're dealing with all the time. It's not going into some ecstatic trance. It's changing a nappy, or making a meal at the end of a very tiring day.

When the writing is going really well, whole days and weeks go by, and I suddenly realise I have all these unpaid bills and, my God, I haven't unpacked, and the suitcase has been sitting there for three weeks.

The everyday cares and duties, which men call drudgery, are the weights and counterpoises of the clock of time, giving its pendulum a true vibration and its hands a regular motion; and when they cease to hang upon its wheels, the pendulum no longer swings, the hands no longer move the clock stands still.

The day broke grey and dull. The clouds hung heavily, and there was a rawness in the air that suggested snow. A woman servant came into a room in which a child was sleeping and drew the curtains. She glanced mechanically at the house opposite, a stucco house with a portico, and went to the child's bed.

It was a small farm in a little rural town by the Indiana state border. I lived there from ages 5 to 12, I would say, before we moved to Dallas. We had chickens and a vegetable garden, and I had to get up to milk the goats at seven in the morning or do it at seven at night.

I get up in the morning, have a job to do, go there, come home, be with the family, that's it.