So my house is clean today. We are getting ready for vacation, and in case we die, and people have to come, and look through our house to find paperwork; prepare our things; find our funeral clothes, I had to clean. Really well. And it took all weekend.
When my boys were young, I used to obsess about the cleanliness of my house. With three boys, three dogs and a husband with the hoarder gene, it’s safe to say, I was borderline committable most of the time, back then. But hey, you could eat off my floors at any given moment -even though nobody ever did.
And then middle-age came along… My sons are mostly grown, and whenever we sit around and reminisce about their childhood, it seems like most of their fun memories are always when I let them make the biggest messes; unfortunately, those times were way too rare.
So, a couple of years ago, I decided to let the house cleaning go; floors, cobwebs, windows; all of it. I decided Hubs and I would clean a little bit here, and a little bit there, and we would live life more, and I would stop obsessing. Just like that, I decided I didn’t have to have an eat-off-the-floors-clean house, one-hundred-percent of the time. I decided my house just needed to be cleaner than a Mexican jail; clean enough so nothing grew; clean enough so we didn’t get cockroaches, and so nobody got sick.
And so far, so good. I’m okay. Mostly.
…As long as I don’t hire a maid service; both times I’ve booked a maid service, the night before the maids were scheduled to arrive, my fake-OCD kicked-in, and I stayed up all night cleaning like Hazel on cocaine.
And then there was that other time… When we had a last-minute house guest, and my fake-OCD switch popped, and I cleaned for six hours non-stop, and the next day I couldn’t move, because my back was frozen, and I couldn’t taste or smell, because the bleach fumes burned my senses.
But otherwise, on a day-to-day basis, I’m okay. Really. You can’t eat off my floors. Well, I mean, you can today… Because in case we die on vacation, the house has to be clean for the funeral people…
I applaud you! I dream of being able to do that someday!
It a work in progress.. I have my moments. Like this week, I’m cleaning in case we die.. lol
Can someone please explain to my why women clean before a maid comes? I would leave the biggest mess ever if I ever got a maid.
HA! It would take a while to explain it, cause, you see, it’s like this whole conversation that takes place in my head… And you probably would need ovaries to understand anyways.