Monday's Housekeeping Post

No woman should be judged by how clean her house is. Certainly no man in the universe has ever worried about being judged by such a goofball standard.

OF COURSE I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE having a clean house.   When the floors are clean, and the beds are freshly made, and the toys are all picked up -- it just feels like all is right with my world.

However -- as I embark on a series of Monday-Housekeeping-Posts -- I want to make one thing very, very clear.  Although I take a lot of pleasure doing everyday homemaking chores -- I am no good at cleaning. 

Me telling people how to clean would be a lot like Oprah telling people how to raise children.

So how do I square my love of having a clean house with my hate of actual cleaning chores??

I...H-A-V-E...A...C-L-E-A-N-I-N-G... L-A-D-Y...

Carrie sometimes brings her daughter Elizabeth -- who has grown up, helping her Mom clean things...and SHE LOVES DOING IT.

I am not now, and have never been, any good at cleaning.  Anything.  My car is a pit and if I had to do it myself, my house would get me a spot on the TLC Hoarder's show.  I will put cleaning off for any reason at all. Too hot, too cold, must wash my hair, make a call, take a call, read a book, take a nap, clip my nails, figure out what Donald Trump is going to say next -- well, you get the idea.

Ergo -- MY CLEANING LADY.

Carrie is more like my house manager. She helps me change out my clothes with the seasons, or bring the mugs and rugs up from the basement when it's time. In the spring, she scrubs the porch and brings up the cushions for the furniture. She helps me organize and sort t-shirt mountain -- or (recently) -- 60 pair of little girl shoes (I am looking for a support group)...

Having Carrie come every Monday brings a rhythm to my life.  On Sunday -- I force myself to think about what needs to be done this week, and I start to ramp things up. (for example, it's not a good use of my Carrie time to have her wash dishes). I call it "staging".  Usually, when Carrie arrives, we do a quick personal download (she is also the beloved daughter of my cousin Kim, and I have known Carrie since the day she was born...) -- then I go to the basement to do laundry and/or sewing and stay out of Carrie's way.

If Carrie didn't come to my house for two hours, once a week, I would be buried by books and sewing stuff and thrift store bags and shoes nobody can wear. Stacks of twenty-year-old Good Housekeeping magazines would prevent me from opening the door to my bedroom. (ironic, I know) 

...I would be too ashamed to invite people over for dinner. I would never be able to have or enjoy a holiday party, much less a house guest.

OH MY GOD...the horror of it. Just thinking about NOT having my Carrie time is giving me a headache...

So -- my best Homemaking advice for this week is to HIRE A CLEANING LADY...!!  Trust me.  It will change your life...