Image: Roland Darby / FreeDigitalPhotos.net
Despite my best efforts to maintain some order and organisation around my home and in my life, I have without noticing it, managed to slip easily back into the same old chaos. In fact for me, retaining a handle on the order, was akin to tottering around in a pair of Victoria Beckham’s impossibly high shoes (and in a size too small). It was uncomfortably difficult, and certainly not something I want to do every day. My own version of an organised mess fits me snugly like my battered old ugg boots and I unwittingly stepped right back into them at the first given opportunity.
It would be easy to blame it on the fact that the size of my family has now outgrown the size of our home. What we once thought of as cosy is now impossibly cramped. I could also legitimately point out the fact that three small children under the age of four require an astonishing amount of time, attention and love (all of which I am all too happy to lavishly bestow, especially when a colossal laundry pile awaits). I could also mournfully lament the unequal things-to-do, to hours-in-the-day ratio.
All would be true, to a degree.
All would be pathetic excuses.
When it comes to the everyday chores of running a home, I am willing to admit, I glaze over with total boredom (and often despair). As I begrudgingly wash and dry the dishes, hang out or fold the clothes, scrub the toilet and polish the kids furniture, I dream of someday being able to hire someone to come and do all these jobs I hate for me.
How fantastic would that be?
But as I let myself fall further and further into the fantasy I look around my home. Oh dear, I couldn’t possibly let someone into my home to see all that mess on the bookcase. I’d better just tidy that, and the carpets look a bit on the grubby side too. I’ll just run the vacuum over it before she arrives.
The shower is definitely a bit on the grotty side. How embarrassing? I’ll just give it a bit of a spruce and scrub before she gets here. I’ve got an hour or so before she’s due to arrive.
A quick spray of polish and a wipe over the furniture wouldn’t go amiss either. I don’t want her to think I’m lazy. Jeez, look at all this dust.
I’ll just have a quick check of the kids rooms too while I’m at it…Hmmm…bed sheets could do with a wash. I’ll just strip all the beds sheets off and put some lovely fresh ones on…There that’s better. I don’t want her thinking I can’t keep on top of things.
Needless to say by the time my fantasy cleaner knocked on the door with her imaginary dish-pan hands, my house was in tip-top order and not in the least bit in need of her services.
Perhaps the cleaning fairy does exist after all!
Is it just me, or would you feel the need to clean up around your home before a cleaner arrived?