This House is Clean.
The only part I dislike about living such a busy life is not having the time to clean my house. I refuse to hire someone else to do it, either, because they just won’t do it … well, right.
My condition, which is a bit obsessive-compulsive disorder and a bit perfectionism, is a direct result of watching my mother clean as I was growing up. I learned the good lessons of course, like how doing a job right the first time is more efficient than having to repeat it. Unfortunately, I also internalized the “cleaning toot,” as she used to call it; that is, once I’ve started, I can’t stop until the whole house is done.
What this means is if I don’t have the time to do the entire house, I just let it rot. It also means that when a special occasion arises - our Halloween cocktail party last October, or when my mother-in-love comes for a visit - I need to call in help to get the house in order. Lucky for me, I have amazing friends who volunteer their time and effort to the cause, but the simple fact is I need to make a cleaning schedule for myself and stick to it. I mean, it’s not that I don’t love spending time with my friends, but I think we’d all be a lot happier if our time were spent at happy hour or a hockey game rather than cleaning toilets and sweeping floors. So, henceforth:
Monday - living/dining room
Tuesday - kitchen
Wednesday - bedrooms
Thursday - library/my office
Friday - one of the three bathrooms
You’ve probably noticed laundry isn’t on the list. This is because the luckiest moment of my life was meeting a man who does his own laundry. Yeah, go ahead and picture it … it’s kind of like porn for women, am I right?
He even picks up his own underwear.