So it’s Thanksgiving next week, and as always we are booked solid until Thursday morning. The Lovely Rhonda is working her four-day stretch, ending on Tuesday, so she’ll be relatively useless on Wednesday. I say that completely without rancor because her workdays are twelve hours long and sandwiched between forty minutes’ drive each way. We jokingly call it Bathrobe Wednesday but it’s no joke; as far as I’m concerned she’s earned a day completely off. She never gets one, but she has one coming to her. About the time she’ll be feeling halfway human we’ll be off on an errand. (I’d talk about what the errand is but it makes us sound all goody-goody. We’re not. We are fortunate and grateful and humble.)
So it’s up to me to clean the house for the holiday, and I accept that with my usual grace, i.e. wretchedly and with great reluctance. It’s not that I don’t value cleanliness and as I stated above, it’s not because I don’t think I should have to. I just don’t wanna.
Here’s part of why I don’t wanna: It will take me bloody ages, because I am a perfectionist. I figure, if I’m going to clean, I’m going to do it right. So, I can’t just clean the kitchen counter off. I have to rearrange the entire kitchen because it’s been irksome to me how crowded the canisters are. I can’t just vacuum around the couch, I must also take a damp rag to the arms where the dog chews his rawhides and leaves gummy crusty patches, and I must remove the cushions and clean under them and vacuum the dog hair from them and take the rag to their spots also. I cannot just shove into a drawer the various pencils I find all over the house now that all the children can write yet cannot put a pencil away under pain of death, I must sharpen them and put them in the pencil cup.
Now, if there is someone coming over in an hour or two I can do those things, but not when I have an entire day to clean. So far today I have done the things described above as well as repaired a book’s torn/ragged cover, washed every blanket/afghan/item of clothing that I come across that might be minutely less than clean, and dusted a shitload of owls.
Oh, and blogged about it.