You don’t really notice how fast time flies until you have a regular schedule of appointments. Since I met “Larry the Cleaning Guy”, every second Wednesday seems to roll up faster than a taxi at the airport. I have to keep an eye on the calendar, the day before he arrives I have to do the pickup of dog toys, clothes, and whatever didn’t get put away in that two week window of not having anyone witness my slacking off. And dishes, yes, I try to do them on a regular basis now, not waiting until I run out of clean ones. I've been on my hands and knees collecting all those pieces of hooking wool, worms and cut ends that fall to the carpet and get tracked around and clog up the beater bar. I have to do regular laundry now so he can get in that room to vacuum, I may not be cleaning but I'm working hard to keep it all in shape so Larry can do his shtick.
I have my pride and I don’t want Larry to think I’m a slob or spoiled or don’t appreciate this lovely home. When he leaves my house it glows, sparkles, shines and that suits this crow to a T so I feel obliged to keep up the pretense that everything has been maintained in his absence. The thought has not been lost on me that considering I’ve proven I can live in chaos and squalor for months at a time, basically Larry is cleaning the house for Larry; he’s the only one that ever comes over!
I like being on a schedule of knowing when to neaten up and I hope, over time, it becomes second nature training. Truthfully I could handle it more often, maybe once a week, then I’d be more controlled and put things away immediately instead of waiting for the night before cleaning day but then again I wonder, how spick-and-span does a house have to be? If I was a ladder climbing socialite or one of those folks that has a constant flow of people through their home, maybe I’d bend over and pick things up, sweep a bit of dirt under a rug, put on a good show, but I’m lucky to see anyone during the month, or is that unlucky? The only upcoming soiree is December 3rd for our annual Christmas Potluck, which conveniently happens to fall on a day that Larry makes his house call. He’ll be heading out the door when the guests start to arrive and everything will be sparkly. All I have to do is play the host, prepare snacks and a dessert and greet everyone with a smile.
He sure makes life easy. Before Larry or “BC” (before cleaning), I would have worked for days, possibly a week cleaning this place, whipping it into a condition worth showing, but now I can relax and enjoy the occasion instead of being near catatonic by the time the function arrives. Maybe I’ll have the time to put in an early Christmas tree. A Christmas party without a decorated tree seems bah humbuggy. In the past, relaxed entertaining has been a foreign concept and I’m a front runner for the position of Stress Queen. Maybe I’ll learn to let down what’s left of my hair and enjoy myself for a change......
I would like to mention how Mother Nature has made me out to be a bit of a jump-the-gun liar. Winter came and then it went. After last weeks snow, Tuesday was shirt sleeve weather, the jacket I wore to take the dogs out in the morning was too warm and I had to strip down to my pajama top or sweat off a pound waiting for them to all find the best spot to squat. How crazy is this? Gone are the days of predictable weather and a gradual evolution from one season to another. I remember the days when you slowly look off the winter garb and stripped down to shorts and a tank top and then slowly put on more clothing, put away the sandals and added socks, then a thin sweater or shell until the snowsuit was taken out of moth balls. Not any more, it’s a roll of the dice every morning and if you don’t pay attention to the weather channel you can get caught with the wrong attire. One day a winter jacket, the next shirt sleeves and you wish you could take off the wool socks that are suffocating your feet. The days of gradual change are over, it would be as foreign to the kids today as knowing who Elvis is.
Good lord, winter's back again.....I just took the pups out for their bedtime pee and it was snowing! Huge flakes floating to the earth like giant dandruff from the sky. Everything was carpeted white and glistening in the porch light. Then I peeked out a half hour later and there wasn’t a crystal left, gone, melted. Then this morning the world was white again. The weather is as fickle as a teenage girl, full of drama and sass.
I have my pride and I don’t want Larry to think I’m a slob or spoiled or don’t appreciate this lovely home. When he leaves my house it glows, sparkles, shines and that suits this crow to a T so I feel obliged to keep up the pretense that everything has been maintained in his absence. The thought has not been lost on me that considering I’ve proven I can live in chaos and squalor for months at a time, basically Larry is cleaning the house for Larry; he’s the only one that ever comes over!
I like being on a schedule of knowing when to neaten up and I hope, over time, it becomes second nature training. Truthfully I could handle it more often, maybe once a week, then I’d be more controlled and put things away immediately instead of waiting for the night before cleaning day but then again I wonder, how spick-and-span does a house have to be? If I was a ladder climbing socialite or one of those folks that has a constant flow of people through their home, maybe I’d bend over and pick things up, sweep a bit of dirt under a rug, put on a good show, but I’m lucky to see anyone during the month, or is that unlucky? The only upcoming soiree is December 3rd for our annual Christmas Potluck, which conveniently happens to fall on a day that Larry makes his house call. He’ll be heading out the door when the guests start to arrive and everything will be sparkly. All I have to do is play the host, prepare snacks and a dessert and greet everyone with a smile.
He sure makes life easy. Before Larry or “BC” (before cleaning), I would have worked for days, possibly a week cleaning this place, whipping it into a condition worth showing, but now I can relax and enjoy the occasion instead of being near catatonic by the time the function arrives. Maybe I’ll have the time to put in an early Christmas tree. A Christmas party without a decorated tree seems bah humbuggy. In the past, relaxed entertaining has been a foreign concept and I’m a front runner for the position of Stress Queen. Maybe I’ll learn to let down what’s left of my hair and enjoy myself for a change......
I would like to mention how Mother Nature has made me out to be a bit of a jump-the-gun liar. Winter came and then it went. After last weeks snow, Tuesday was shirt sleeve weather, the jacket I wore to take the dogs out in the morning was too warm and I had to strip down to my pajama top or sweat off a pound waiting for them to all find the best spot to squat. How crazy is this? Gone are the days of predictable weather and a gradual evolution from one season to another. I remember the days when you slowly look off the winter garb and stripped down to shorts and a tank top and then slowly put on more clothing, put away the sandals and added socks, then a thin sweater or shell until the snowsuit was taken out of moth balls. Not any more, it’s a roll of the dice every morning and if you don’t pay attention to the weather channel you can get caught with the wrong attire. One day a winter jacket, the next shirt sleeves and you wish you could take off the wool socks that are suffocating your feet. The days of gradual change are over, it would be as foreign to the kids today as knowing who Elvis is.
Good lord, winter's back again.....I just took the pups out for their bedtime pee and it was snowing! Huge flakes floating to the earth like giant dandruff from the sky. Everything was carpeted white and glistening in the porch light. Then I peeked out a half hour later and there wasn’t a crystal left, gone, melted. Then this morning the world was white again. The weather is as fickle as a teenage girl, full of drama and sass.
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