because, on Tuesday morning, the cleaner comes. Oh Frabjous Day! I lurch from Tuesday to Tuesday, wondering how on earth the place gets into such a state, but for a few precious hours every Tuesday just after Sue has finished life is perfect.
I know, I know, why on earth do I tidy up for the cleaner. Easy - I want her to clean. She can only vacuum the floor if she can find it. Some days even I can't find the floor, and I know whereabouts its supposed to be - I live here after all. It's not that I can't be tidy, it's pretty much that I won't. I tried tidying away a pair of trousers the other week, and a wasp, which had made its ridiculously unseasonal home in the folds thereof, stung me. On my finger. It really hurt! That'll teach me to tidy - HAH! Whereas cleaning - that's an art the mastery of which has spent years eluding me.
All I want for Christmas is - a place for everything, and everything in its place. In a house as unkempt as mine, I go crazy if something - a book of stamps, say, or the sticky tape, is left lying about, because dammit, they have their place! In the top drawer in the little Lock'n'lock box! In the other drawer with the plastic bag clips! Not lying about on the work surface piled in with a dirty great pile of other stuff!
But you know what they say - if an untidy desk is the sign of an untidy mind, what's an empty desk the sign of? . . .
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4 comments:
Well, I'm relieved it was on your finger. After your comment in Patroclus' blog, I worried it might have been in the, er, rumpular region. And that doesn't bear thinking about.
Oh yah, and personally, I'm a slob. I'm all for it, except the deep desire that I could be as sloppy/lazy as I want and things would somehow magically BE tidy and organized. Ah, oh well.
'rumpular'?!??!?! You have a medical background now? ROFLMAO!
Also a bit slob-like I'm afraid. I try to be tidy but then I get bored and do something more interesting.
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