Sunday, October 14, 2012

Monday Musings


I have never hired someone to come into my house and provide a service. I like to do things myself. I am a cleaning fanatic, and I have lived under the assumption that no one can clean quite like I can clean, and, therefore, clean I must. This past week provided the exception. Especially harried from business at work and the upcoming bachelorette party, I arrived at a restaurant in the Richmond last week to meet my dad for dinner. On this particular evening I had also been driving, which I loathe doing in the city because I can never find parking. That night was no exception. I pulled over to the curb, too exasperated to continue to look, and let J. take the wheel. (J. later told me I was behaving like a diva. Me? Never.)  In the restaurant, my dad could tell that I was feeling slightly manic and overwhelmed, and I starting ranting about how the apartment was a disaster because of the painting, and the laundry was piling up, and I was sure that J. and I were engaging in a silent battle of wills about which one of us would empty the dishwasher, so the plates were also piling up, and I was tired.  I must insert here that I am well aware of the fact that I do not have any children, so this could be way worse, but I essentially work two jobs. My real job keeps me busy enough, and this blog is the equivalent of a second job in the time I try to devote to it. Some days, I just feel stretched thin. Anyway, this is a long way to get around to my real story, which is that my dad told me to hire a cleaning person to come in so that I could focus on work. It was as if heaven opened and shined warm rays of calm on me, and the word of the gods was "Hire Natural Maidens" (because if a deity wanted to endorse a cleaning company, I think that Natural Maidens would be an apropos choice). And who am I to argue with that? So, I did.

My maiden was accommodating enough to come within 24 hours. The moment I let the lovely women into my apartment, I suddenly felt that I should work alongside her. I starting fussing around looking for things to do because I didn't want her to think that I was just sitting around while she was cleaning up my mess. (She did comment that I was particularly tidy.) The whole time she was in my apartment I experienced a weird guilty feeling over having someone do something for me that I could do myself--even if having that person do it buys me the time to do the other things I really need to be doing. Its felt so indulgent (and not quite in the good way a facial feels indulgent). She did a terrific job, but upon further inspection, I have concluded that I was right all along. No one can clean quite like I can clean.

I have updates to come on the party, the chevron wall, and everything in between. In the meantime, get this week started right. Happy Monday.

1 comment:

  1. Reading this post made me feel SO much better about my crazy cleaning obsession! With only one full time job and no kids, I often feel stretched thin. Being home in a clean apartment is so zen. I too believe that no one can clean quite like me. Hiring some help seems like an easy solution, but I do not think I would ever be quite comfortable with that notion. Thank you for making me feel like I am not the only one :)

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