By ANGEL KANEWilson Living Magazine
Saturday morning as I walked around my house, room by room…I was in a state of deep depression.
My house, my home, my hearth, the place I come to for peace and comfort - was a FREAKIN mess!!!
Four weeks prior, the lovely lady who’d been helping me keep the house nice and neat….deserted me! Claiming she was moving out of town. When my eldest, who is slowly learning the ways of the world, heard about it, she wisely noted,
“HA! That sounds like a lie. I bet she just didn’t want to work for you anymore.”
Honestly, I have no idea what she was talking about. But yes, I’m a stickler for everything being insanely clean.
In fact, my friend Julie gave me one of the best compliments ever only months before, “Angel, I’m sorry, but it’s so clean that it looks like nobody lives in your house.”
“Thank you”, I gushed. To which Becky rolled her eyes and yelled out - “its not a compliment - you‘re sick!”
Frankly, I have no idea what she was talking about. But yes, clutter and dirt will literally make my heart race.
If I see something out of place, I immediately put it where it belongs. Be it a drink, book, shoe or toy, if its not in it’s appointed spot, I see to it that it is. So much so, that I’ve noticed that my daughter’s friend, Victoria, will not put her drink down when I’m in the room.
“Victoria, why are you doing that?” I had to ask one day.
“If I put it down, you will throw it out and wash the glass,” she said clutching her drink so tightly that her knuckles were white.
Truthfully, I have no idea what she was talking about. But yes, when the lovely lady who helped me keep my heart palpitations at bay abandoned me, I immediately came up with Plan B.
We no longer needed help with the house. We were perfectly capable of cleaning our own home from top to bottom. I made up a list and by each item, placed the name of the family member who was responsible for that chore. Each day we would devote one hour to items on the list.
So on Saturday morning, as I saw the unswept floor, smudges on the glass and books all over the place, I went looking for those dirty people I live with.
As I showed them the list and all the items they had failed to clean, my eldest looked at me and said,
“Seriously, I have no idea what you are talking about. But yes, moving out of town is starting to sound better and better.”
Angel can be contacted at firstname.lastname@example.org. For more of Angel’s and Becky’s columns go to www.wilsonpost.com and hit Columns & Blogs.