One of my dirty little secrets is that I have a cleaner. I’m deeply embarrassed about this really but for reasons I can’t explain on the blog, I can’t actually stop having one. It’s a left over of the days when running the business, having lots of home educated children, a house new enough to be worth preserving and being pregnant with a husband who still had a proper job made it all seem perfectly respectable. Now that I’m not particularly gainfully employed, it’s a bit of an indulgence to say the least. You’ll just have to take it from me that I beat myself with a mop about it and.. well, like I said, it’s not something I can actually stop. (I don’t mean I can’t stop because I have a house servant addiction, it’s just.. well… complicated!)
It’s a good job I do to be honest because while I can just about keep my own bedroom tidy (there isn’t much margin for yelling about girl bedrooms if your own looks like a pit of Hades), I’m utterly hopeless about housework. I can’t blame anyone else for this. I’m just rubbish. I don’t see grime at all until it is actually at the ‘tide of dried peas washing round my knees’ stage. I’m oblivious to piles of stuff for the most part, within acceptable limits and utterly unable to see crud in showers, corners, sink edges or the bottom of the fridge. My pain barrier may be low, but my ‘likely to give botulism’ one is particularly high. I credit my kids general good health to the abundance of germs the encounter on a daily basis. So E, who comes for 2 hours a fortnight, keeps things to within a limit that mostly means social services would not remove the children if they popped by.
I honestly have no idea why. My sister cleans her bathroom perfectly adequately and I’m prepared to bet my brother lives in something as clean and trim as a
hospital place where people think hygiene is important. I can’t check because he ran away to Australia and I think my house was the last one he stayed in here, but I don’t think that was related to my domestic goddess skills. But somehow I can always find better things to do. I’d like to tell you that while my house is lacking in the finer touches of cleanliness, my hard drive is a paragon of military filing perfection, but it’s not true either. In general, I’m just a person who likes to do things all in one go – housework in a large lump when pregnant (could be a problem going forward), tax return and all the associated books on the 27th January , blog posts in a heap. I’m an all or nothing kind of girl – and when it’s housework, I prefer nothing.
My children will tell you that I sadly don’t extend my slovenliness to my expectations for their room. In fact, I’ve heard my mothers voice a number of times recently as I beg them to tidy up enough that I can see the edges of things. Honestly, I swore I never would…. but I did.
The trouble with living in a predominantly beige house though, as I do thanks to the decorative skills of Eggbox Homes Incorporated, is that grime does build up. The carpet downstairs is looking distinctly muddy these days, having had 6 years of 6 pairs of feet treading all over it. And as we stagger into the dawn of an era where a small boy will want to crawl on said carpet and I will want to
bore delight you all with lots of photos of his achievements down there, it has occurred to me that pictures of my carpet are not going to be pretty. I’m not entirely sure that floor cleaner is going to cut the mustard though. I have a horrible feeling that neither my lovely lady with the mop, nor my trusty water emitting vacuum-y thing (known to my friends as an Ady machine, but that’s another story) is going to do the job.
This is not my carpet. To be honest though, it nearly could be 🙄
So what’s a girl to do? Will Ben love me or hate me if I pull up the carpet and start thinking about laminate floor? Is this just asking for trouble as he turns into a small boy who likes to ‘skid’? Or shall I just attach scrubby pads to his knees, squirt some bubbly stuff on the floor and hope he whips up a lather as he learns to crawl?
Answers on a postcard please….