I am struggling with keeping the house in good order. I thought that the lack of a job would free up time, and it has. What is has not done is create within my bosom a deep love of cleaning or even a desire to keep things in order. There are a hundred other things to occupy my mind rather than dishes...like counting grass blades or staring at clouds. Really anything is preferable to me than cleaning the house. I love cooking, rearing and schooling the beasties but I just hate cleaning. As much as the idea of a housekeeper makes me uncomfortable, if I had the money, I'd indulge but honestly I don't know what housekeeper would take us on.
And the simple reality is that we can't afford for someone to come and muck us once a month much less once a week (which is really what we'd need). So I clean because if I don't stay on top of it things become bad. Quickly. Things get lost. And gross. And at some point, it just makes my skin crawl off my bones. Then I clean. I spend all week in a frenzy of domestic goddess energy until the house looks as close to as Martha Stewart as I'm ever going to get (not very close for the record). For a week, I'll keep up with it, and then I'll grow tired and it will return to the usual state of filth we call home. The beasties of course rejoice during these weeks because I'm so busy cleaning, I don't have time to nag them about math work. Instead they get to read whatever they want whenever they want. They're not so thrilled that I make them help but they seem to think it's worth the sacrifice to not do math work. Me? I'd prefer Math work, and those who know me know how I feel about Math.
The other day as I was scrubbing the awful white tile floor in the kitchen (I mean who DOES white tile in a kitchen? Seriously?), I started to think that my life would be better if I had a super special broom like my friends had. I am not joking. This what I thought "I remember so and so writing about a SUPER SPECIAL BROOM that sweeps and mops!" All I could think about was the SUPER SPECIAL BROOM. The only problem was that I couldn't remember the name. I did remember that they cost a small fortune but I decided it would be worth it if it made cleaning easier. All day long I thought about SUPER SPECIAL BROOM. It grew to be an epic tool of the domestic Goddess. Thor has his hammer, Domestic Goddess has SUPER SPECIAL BROOM. I imagined myself whizzing around sweeping and mopping at.the.same.time! I even dreamed about the damn broom. But I couldn't remember the real name. And i knew there was no way I was going to spend 60 on it because I'm a cheap bitch. But for awhile the thought of that broom brightened my domestic fog.
And then I was scared. Had I really become a person who LUSTS over brooms? Even super special brooms? How frightening. How not me. I used to lust over 600 shoes and now I was drooling and day dreaming about a broom that sweeps and mops. I actually felt a little sad the next day. I am not sure what to make of this housewife stuff. I love being with the beasties but I hate keeping our home the way it needs to be for us to function. I sometimes resent that I can't just sit down and read. I hate that sometimes I have to stop right in an amazing writing insight to go make lunch, dinner, or a snack. But then I imagine a life where I didn't have the responsibilities and that life is even sadder. The messy house, the endless meals, the constant cutting of applies into little slices is a sign of love. A sign that I am completed by the beasties and by H. This life may come with some drudergy but it also comes with a hell of a lot of magic. Like SUPER SPECIAL BROOMS!