Our house is generally a little sticky, a bit cluttered and usually one load of laundry away from having Hugh Grant declare it a mountain. There have been many times I've walked through my front door after a long day and thought if only I had a match and a wee bit of fuel? Not that the scorched dirt policy is necessarily the best option but sometimes in a weak and desperate moment one spitballs an idea or too, that may or may not be considered a possible felony.
The thing is I'm not entirely sure how it gets so bad so quickly. If I didn't know better I would swear the house itself is on permanent self-destruct. Maybe that's it? Perhaps the house is so lacking in self-esteem from years and years of abuse that it has literally given up. I wouldn't blame it. I gave up years ago.
This part is difficult to admit because I'm not a quitter by nature. Sure, I stop doing stuff all the time, but mostly because I get bored or it gets too hard or it's raining. These are all very good reasons to not do things anymore, in my personal opinion.
I have a gift. Well perhaps not a gift but certainly affinity. You see, I know when to wave the white flag. Sadly it's not so white because I sometimes get a tiny bit behind on laundry too.
I hope I'm in a safe place here. This is bordering on an over-share.
Now it wasn't always this way. For the longest time I swam against the current of debris. I armed myself with sponges, mops and a variety of miracle cleaning products. That’s because back then I still believed in miracles.
Every single day, and I would like to say I'm exaggerating but sadly I'm not, I would wake up and spend no less than 3-4 hours cleaning my house. I would get it so spotless surgeries could have been performed there. I would think I was done, but it was never done. It was all just an illusion of being done, because no sooner had I put away the vacuum and the buckets, I'd hear a "splat", an "oops" or one of my children would use the toilet and the moment was lost. The sterile living environment I had slaved to create was no longer.
So I had two choices. I could continue on my crazy hamster wheel trying desperately to achieve the perfect home or I could be happy. I picked happy. Now don't get me wrong I still have standards. The house does get cleaned thoroughly once a week. Just not by me.
I have a lovely woman who agrees to come to our house and work her mojo. She does her very best to stay ahead of the chaos we create the other six days of the week. She is brave and she is strong and she was willing to sign a non-disclosure agreement to never speak of things she sees that may or may not be considered a violation of the health code act.