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| Her house is actually cleaner. |
Okay, the baby can come any time now.
Well, actually, give me about an hour, Baby Monkey- for you see, our home is being cleaned. And- this is the kicker- by people who know what they’re doing.
They are vacuuming the couch.They are scrubbing and disinfecting the tubs as opposed to just, like, vaguely wiping/spraying them down with an after-shower spray. [P.J.: You only wipe them down? Keely: Yes. I didn’t want you to have to find out this way.] Also, Big Household Tip…that after-shower spray only works if one actually deeply cleans said shower more than once a season. It’s not a magic mist. “No Scrub” means “You Don’t Need To Scrub…This Week. But Maybe Give Next Week A Go.”
Regardless, this is not that week.
I think I particularly embrace and revel in having my home cleaned because- way back at the beginning of my nanny gigs- I also cleaned homes. It was not a pretty time in my life (for my wardrobe, self-esteem, or those residing with me and my frequent bouts of sobbing). ‘Cause guess what? People are gross. Horrific, really. Even relatively clean people have bathroom and kitchen habits that make one question the future of humanity.
That said- it’s my grossness that is being dealt with this week!
“Oh, good for you,” I hear over the interwebz. “Now you can be the bougie elite having someone else steam the drapes.”
Firstly, don’t say “drapes.” It’s gauche. Secondly- ohnonononononononono. We can most certainly not afford to have someone clean our house. Hah, not in the LEAST! (Need a visual? P.J. is currently having a coronary at work, man-crying into his computer screen and attempting to budget things like- oh- food, gas, and electricity.) But three times a year, I love to have this amazing woman and her team of efficient (and oddly silent) Polish gals make short work of my home in an hour. For the same price as what I used to pay (in a former life, roughly two years back) for a pair of Converse and some consignment shop Kenneth Cole black slingbacks. For example. (Sigh.)
However- worth it. Even though I’m typing this while wearing Target kicks from The Village Discount. (That’s two uncomfortable visuals for you today, now isn’t it?)
It’s especially worth it these days. When I can no longer bend. This is embarrassingly true. Peej has been attempting to put me on something that I call Forced And Mean Confinement and that he terms Go Lay Down, Already, You’re Really Starting To Tick Me Off.
Just last night, in fact, immediately after I disregarded GLDA,YRSTTMO, I stood up from bed where I had been filing/reading/stenciling birthday cards (Guess which one isn’t true? Trick question- they’re ALL true!) and found myself short of breath. Which kind of proved his point. But also proved mine that he’s turning me into an invalid who needs to be wheeled down to the seaside in a plaid blanket.
The stencils are lovely, however.
Obviously.
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