Humor is, in my world, as essential an element of life as air or food. Without laughter, life would be dull and miserable. Therefore, I try to find a reason to laugh about everything.
Some things aren't funny until much later, but eventually, almost everything is funny. Even divorce, which wasn't at all funny at the time, but I find my ex-husband hilarious now that I'm not related to him any more. Or cleaning house, which, from my point of view, is almost as bad. It is also something which I am seeing from the perspective of up close and personal these last few weeks.
I'm going to make a confession here, in case you don't know me well. For years, I have blamed my children for the shoddy condition of my home. It is not because I am an atrocious housekeeper - it is because I am a parent that I am so domestically challenged.
I have complained, often and loudly, that my offspring have never learned how to move a light switch to the off position, despite the ability to move it to on, even if they are just passing through. The television apparently only has an on switch, because it has never been turned off as long as they have been alive. They have never put anything away. Ever. They do not know where any wastebasket is located, despite wastebaskets being strategically placed throughout the house, including their own rooms.
How can I possibly keep a clean house with them following behind me to mess it right up again, I ask you? It's an impossible dream, and I don't have Richard Kiley around to sing about it. (If you don't know who he is, Google it, and you will have had your educational moment of the day. If you do know, feel superior that you are so smart, and find something else to learn today!)
So I gave it up as a lost cause a long time ago. As I have been fond of telling people, I can either have my children, or I can have a clean house, but I can't have both.
Fast forward about 15 years, (that is about the time I lost control of the whole situation,) and here we are, A-Day. Which stands for Alone in the House and No More Excuses Day. The baby left for college this fall, and I knew the moment of truth was upon me. Now we would see whether or not the source of the problem was them or me, and I was a little nervous about the answer.
Between wallowing in fear for a couple of weeks, followed by being so overwhelmed by the scope of the problem that I didn't know where to start for a couple more, I was sort of paralyzed by inaction the first month or so. Then I thought I would just pitch in and do one room at time, which, after spending an entire weekend on one small room, became apparent was not going to be a working solution.
Ultimately, I came up with the strategy which I've employed the last couple of weeks, and which has resulted in spectacular results. (There will be humor, I swear, but I am also passing along a cleaning tip or two here. This is a multi-purpose blog, providing both form and function for your reading pleasure. But seriously. Talk about shock and awe. This is it. Me offering cleaning advice is something none of us ever thought we would see!)
The magical answer for me has been to spend 15 minutes a day on cleaning. No more, no less, usually on my lunch hour, although 15 minutes after work is acceptable, too. In addition, I do one load of laundry a day, washing, drying, and putting away, which, with only one load, takes a total of about ten minutes of my time. I throw in the load first thing in the morning, I throw it into the dryer at lunch time, and I fold and put away after work. Simplicity itself, and I always seem to have whatever I want to wear, which is like having a whole new wardrobe at my disposal.
I have been amazed at how beautiful my house can look, when I spend only 15 minutes a day on it, and don't have anyone else coming behind to mess things up again!
The answer is in. It's not me! It really IS them! Thus, the humor. I love being right. Every time I walk through my house and see how put together it looks, my heart soars at the sheer pleasure of it all.
A bit much? Okay. But it is nice to not be embarrassed to have someone come unexpectedly to the door, at least.
So the next time you look around your house and you feel like giving up, take heart. At the most, you have 18 years until you, too, can have house beautiful. Or at least house the way you always wanted it! And in my world, that's all I need.
Wishing you a clean week!
