Is it just me, or does anyone else find cleaning and housework just a tad tedious?
It dawned on me this evening as I was sweeping and washing the kitchen floor that I really don’t like doing that.
Or more to the point, I kept thinking about other things I could be doing that made much more sensible use of my time, like learning to play blues on my new keyboard, or finishing the painting I started last week, reading that book I’m enjoying, going out on my bike, taking Archie for a walk, listening to Spotify, watching paint dry…..
In fact, even watching Coronation street would be better than ironing. Although, hang on a minute, maybe not. that’s taking it a bit far.
But I reckon I’m just not ‘housewife’ material. Well, I’ve always known that, but some days I just get the confirmation in my head. Not that I have anything against housewives, of course. I have a couple of friends who are perfectly suited to doing just that. when I call round, there is never a thing out of place; their houses are immaculate, dusted, hoovered, washed to within an inch of their lives. If I accept a cuppa, I’m always scared to put my cup down on any surfaces and when I sit down I’m painfully aware of the creases I am making in the cushions on the sofa… My cup is always snatched up and washed as soon as I’ve drained the final drop of tea from it and I can sense the cushions being plumped as I close the front door behind me!
On the other hand, when they visit me, it’s always when the house is at its worst. Just as I’m about to start cleaning – never after I’ve done it. they come in and pretend not to notice the dust bunnies hopping along the hall floor, or Archie’s hairs which have mysteriously appeared on the carpet in front of the fire. I catch them looking ceiling-wards and discover to my horror that there’s a massive cobweb in the corner of the living room – how on earth did a spider manage to make that in the last 10 minutes? so I take them through to the kitchen to make tea and they glance sideways at the pile of unwashed dishes beside the sink. Oh, they try very hard not to look disgusted, but they just can’t help themselves. I can hear their thought – what sled-respecting woman could leave DISHES without washing them immediately after dinner?
I’m drained when they leave, so drained that I can’t be bothered to climb up to get the cobweb. I lamely sweep up the dust bunnies, bung the dishes in the dishwasher and retire to my piano to do something more interesting instead.
I sometimes wish I had a spotless house, but then again, I live in it, so what does it matter if there’s a pile of books on the table, or some un-ironed clothes on the stairs waiting to be carried up? I’m comfortable with my clutter and life’s just too short to spend it on housework!