Putzgretl: A guy’s dream and a woman’s nightmare. You remember Hansl and Gretl, don’t you? And that mean old witch in the woods who made Gretl scrub the tiles on her hands and knees while lazy old ignorant Hansl had his fill of candy canes and gingerbread? Well there you go. The first Putzgretl was born. (The Grimm Brothers may have been the first novelists to write mantasies). Much to the chagrin of my nearest and dearest, I shall never be at risk of coming down with the affliction of Putzgretlness. Sure, I can be sweet talked into a cute apron, a pair of ripped jeans and my hair in a ponytail to put in some elbow grease but no one would ever confuse me with a Putzgretl — because – alas – I might clean because I know it needs done but I will never ingratiate myself to the thankless Sisyphus work of spray, wipe, smile, repeat. Spray, wipe, smile, repeat. Give me a good podcast and I can clean a place in no time flat. Just clear on out of my way and don’t make me remove my headphones for anything. But just clean for cleaning’s sake — for, like, fun. No way.
Delve more into the Austrian creative side with their rant words: “Der Kleine Wappler” by Astrid Wintersberger, Residenz Verlag — book is completely in Austrian language.
Website of Austrian Dialect: Ostarrichi.org
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