Saturday, February 12, 2011
In Keeping with Keeping
But . . . I've done pretty good so far. I've ignored the fridge in the dining room. I've ignored layers of dust. I've ignored every spoon and coffee cup in the house being dirty.
It's ever so sweet right now because the end is soooooooo in sight and I am taking the very sage and smart advice from several of my readers and I'm hiring a small team (well okay, there are two of them) to help me get out from under the dust. I'm happy about that!
Pup is clutching his chest just thinking about it, but I told him to blow me. Smooches Pup and sorry I stole your line!
He'll be fine. It's double hard on him with all of this because he's in the throws of his busy season and all of this is unsettling. Poor baby Pup.
You sometimes see a woman who would have made a Joan of Arc in another century and climate, threshing herself to pieces over all the mean worry of housekeeping.
Don't cook. Don't clean. No man will ever make love to a woman because she waxed the linoleum - "My God, the floor's immaculate. Lie down, you hot bitch."
I'm not going to vacuum until Sears makes one you can ride on.
This mess is a place!
My idea of housework is to sweep the room with a glance.
When I have company, I don't clean the house, I just throw a sheet over the furniture and say I'm remodeling.