Clean -5minutefreewrite (x3)

For https://steemit.com/freewrite/@mariannewest/the-weekend-freewrite-4-8-2018-part-3-the-dramatic-twist

Soon, she felt sure of her husband. She knew his dark face and the extent of its passion.
Macbeth held dirty laundry. He looked at her. The sweaty poured from him as she stacked more and more clothes in his arms.
"I shall neither bend nor break."
He stumbled away from her, but she shrieked and with her witching powers drew him back in.
"A sock, a pair of underwear, a t-shirt from a blessed host forgotten on the day of ghost and left to rot beneath a pumpkin, in the washtub churn you bumpkin! A pair of pants that hadn't seen a fortnight of unworn rest. Add thereto a forgotten frock, and with a tumble and a lock, wash them wash them you unclean wretch. My husband you shall surely snatch from thereto an under done potato? Well let it dirty and let it clean thou shalt never be unseen!"

She was surely mad, she thought to herself, but the last three days had been too much. It was finally time.

Let your house do the dirty work.
That's what had gotten Macbeth excited about this new house. Lady Macbeth and he had always been complaining about how every corner was dirty in their old house. He would clean in the hallway, she would clean in the kitchen, but it was never clean enough. He knew that if the house could clean itself, at least they would both be able to rest. But how did the house do the dirty work? By being haunted. The ghosts would move stuff around. They would occasionally kill people, and then, in order to clean their messes, they'd possess people. Currently they were both being possessed, but she was possessed with the fun dominatrix ghost and he was possessed by the tortured soul who didn't particularly enjoy laundry. Usually it was a task he took to with relish. He liked putting things in holes and taking them out clean. That was what laundry meant to him, but here there was a washtub, and no matter how much he scrubbed, everything got dirtier... because the water was his own blood. Very frustrating. He wasn't entirely sure if perhaps he was one of the ghosts doomed to live a life of repeating endless torment... He had only killed a king and stuff, so why was this his particu-

Helping Charlene to prepare some of the meal took his mind off things. She was his wife, after all. Lady Charlene Macbeth.

She was scrubbing carrots and thinking about that awful house they'd lived in for two whole weeks. The one with the clean-freak ghosts. It was a step down from the place they'd been in for years before that, which only had the problem of always looking dirty no matter how much they cleaned. Now they didn't mind dirt so much. In fact... she dropped a piece of carrot on the floor and had the dog scarf it up. There, that was clean enough. There were only 3 dishes in the sink. Put water in the sink, let them soak. No, better yet, the dog licks them clean, then they're rinsed. That's enough.

He'd eventually learned to love washing clothes by hand. Everything was a little dingier than usual, but it stopped the voices, he'd said. She'd learned not to ask him what he meant. They'd been here for 5 months, and as long as he didn't talk about their time in the haunted house, everything seemed pretty much back to normal. Only once has she caught him drinking his own blood. When she stopped him he'd said, "I need to hydrate. Good old water." Then he drank the rest of his blood and gone back to bed.

So