He is home
posted by Helen
Dave came home at around midnight yesterday. He briefly flirted with taking Delta up on a $400 offer to spend the night in Cinncinnati, but good sense prevailed.
Contrary to some reports, I did not spend the weekend partying. I cleaned, de-cluttered and prepared for a visit from my parents later this week. Not that they would ever find fault with my housekeeping (which leaves so very much to be desired), but because I just couldn't stand it any more.
I don't know how people who actually have to leave their homes to work every day manage. If it weren't that I can throw a load of laundry in between answering phone calls and other office-related activities, I don't know what I would do. Even with the intensive bout of housework this weekend, parts of the house are still a disaster.
All my life I've been thinking that eventually I will get a grip on the housework situation and suddenly we'll be living in a picture-perfect (circa 1950s) household. I don't know why that would be the ideal, but I guess it's like that imprinting thing that happens with baby ducks. I must have absorbed it during those summers spent watching "Father Knows Best" and "Leave It to Beaver" re-runs (while my mom vacuumed around me, I'm sure).
Why do I think it's just a matter of my organizing myself well enough? Clearly the homes in those sitcoms benefited from the full-time ministrations of a stay-at-home mom. Maybe it is time to throw in the Swiffer duster and hire a cleaning service.
Contrary to some reports, I did not spend the weekend partying. I cleaned, de-cluttered and prepared for a visit from my parents later this week. Not that they would ever find fault with my housekeeping (which leaves so very much to be desired), but because I just couldn't stand it any more.
I don't know how people who actually have to leave their homes to work every day manage. If it weren't that I can throw a load of laundry in between answering phone calls and other office-related activities, I don't know what I would do. Even with the intensive bout of housework this weekend, parts of the house are still a disaster.
All my life I've been thinking that eventually I will get a grip on the housework situation and suddenly we'll be living in a picture-perfect (circa 1950s) household. I don't know why that would be the ideal, but I guess it's like that imprinting thing that happens with baby ducks. I must have absorbed it during those summers spent watching "Father Knows Best" and "Leave It to Beaver" re-runs (while my mom vacuumed around me, I'm sure).
Why do I think it's just a matter of my organizing myself well enough? Clearly the homes in those sitcoms benefited from the full-time ministrations of a stay-at-home mom. Maybe it is time to throw in the Swiffer duster and hire a cleaning service.
Posted at 4:16 PM
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