Take My Rock, Please

Who is it that decided that a house should be kept clean all the time?

I want to know who it was that determined a huge portion of my time should be devoted to cleaning various forms of gunk off of various surfaces in my home. What committee meeting was held without my knowledge that implies I am a bad mother if I my house is not in a constant state of purity?

My problem with housecleaning is the Sisyphisian proportions of it. If that wasn't already a word, I just made it up. As soon as I wipe crumbs off the toaster, they are back within 24 hours. I clean toys up off the floor each night only to be confronted with the same toys in different places the next night. And for that extra thrill, sometimes I even discover toys that he managed to find and drag out from underneath the sofa. Toilets, bathtubs, showers, sinks, carpets, it's the same old routine.

How does one keep from going crazy cleaning the house all the time?

I find myself rebelling in different ways. For example, I rarely make the bed. My grandmother of the hospital corners every day of her life would be sorely disappointed in me. Oh, I'll sort of smooth the sheets, but it isn't really made up. I just hate folding the laundry. To me, it is easier just to toss it in the dryer for a few minutes instead of folding, stacking, and placing.

I think I need to win the lottery so I can hire a housekeeper or something.

Oh, and if you ever want to come over, just please be sure to give at least 24 hours notice. That way I can make sure you won't stick to the toilet seat and you'll be able to see where you are walking. And so I can make my bed, of course.

Comments

Suzanne said…
Housekeeping -- who needs it? I find myself asking the same exact questions; if the clutter/dirt/dust/crumbs just reassemble themselves out of thin air within moments of my cleaning them up, why bother? So I leave them all alone, until their collective presence gnaws away at me and I begin to feel that my life is just spiraling out of control because of all the mess. Then, the cycle resumes.
Heather Plett said…
Man, can I commisserate! From my vantage point right now I can see a toy box dumped out on the floor, a futon that was made into a bed for company who stayed here weeks ago and hasn't made its way back into its couch position, a few boxes that found their way into my house when my Dad died (two years ago) and still haven't been unpacked or put into proper storage.... the list could go on and on. You get the picture.

I suck at housekeeping. But I like to think that all my other brilliant talents make up for it :-)

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