Confession: I am a neat freak. I like neat, orderly – and clean. Very clean.
The problem with this? I am terrible at cleaning. I try, Lordy, do I try.
Oh, balls, I’ll be honest – I hate cleaning. Unlike my friend Amy, who LURVES to mop hardwood floors (sicko) or my friend Melanie, who loves to clean baseboards (?????) I do not like to clean. I like the end result – the process? I’d prefer to hire it out (except for the guilt, seeing as how I’m home all day now, with no kids about). Actually, its not unlike my love-hate relationship with the gym, but that’s a completely different post. Actually, I wouldn’t mind hiring out the working out bit, either….
I wish I could adopt a “life’s too short” attitude, but some days I’m a few Lexapro away from a nervous breakdown anyway, obsessing about everything, so I don’t see it happening.
So you can imagine my horror upon returning from a 3 week vacation to discover a profusion of spiderwebs, dust, and dirt. Seriously, I had a chat with the spiders and made it very clear that they were to lay off. Bitches, instead it looks like they had a party, invited spider friends, and maybe a few fairies and pixies, who roarked in the corners.
Normally, I’d cut myself some slack, given the degree of jet lag I was fighting, but while I was back in the US, I swung by our house there to check on it. The current renters turned up their nose at my offer of the number of our amazing, fantabulous cleaning lady as “they are very particular and don’t need a cleaning lady”. Well, given the condition of the house, the only thing they are particular about is dog hair and not using cleaning supplies.
So I think I’m suffering post traumatic shock, or something, and projecting it on the house that we are renting. It IS home to me, and not just some place we are killing time in, and after seeing the old house, I have to clean SOMETHING. In two days, I’ve vacuumed (twice), mopped, dusted, cleaned toilets, dusted again, knocked down cobwebs, vacuumed more spiders, and scrubbed two pre-existing stains out of the rugs. Sick, I know.
And then Pea peed on the floor.
I’m starting to get the “pointless” bit, especially with my kids and all the neighborhood kids running in and out all day. But I just can’t ignore it. Its genetic, or something.
Just don’t look in the corners and behind the toilets when you come to visit, ‘kay?