It has come to my attention over the last decade or so that I do not really care for housework. I'll do it, but it certainly isn't with a Disney Princess cheerful attitude.
I love the way my house looks all shiny, polished, vacuumed, mopped, and dusted but very rarely are all those things done at the same time.
Not helping my attitude is the fact that I can get one room done, walk out of it, come back a few minutes later and it looks like I never even touched it. I miss the days when I could clean my house and it would stay clean until I messed it up. I struggle at times to accept those days are long gone, but I'm not willing to become obsessive about always having a clean house either.
I want the kids to remember their childhoods as the best times of their lives, not by how upset I was about not having a perfect house. But on the flip side, I want them to realize that cleaning a house takes effort and there's no such thing as a house cleaning fairy that swoops in while they are sleeping to do it for them.
...which circles right back to my search for balance...
Anyway, as I was making the bed today I found myself thinking, "Why am I doing this?"
I mean, I know the answer. I make the bed because it's important to Robert that the bed be made. If it were up to me? It might and it might not get made up every morning.
Oh, who am I kidding? I refuse to use a flat sheet because then I can just throw the comforter over the top of the bed and call it made. Yes, I'm aware that's just sad...or efficient, depending on how you choose to look at it.
I have to admit, the bed looks much nicer when it's made up.In fact, it makes the whole bedroom look nicer. But in the back of my mind is a tiny, annoying voice pointing out that the bed is just going to get messed up again tonight so why bother. I hear that same voice and argument about opening curtains and blinds too. Harrumph. Daylight and sunshine are overrated sometimes.
Open them shut them...open them shut them....make the bed, do the dishes, do the laundry, dust, vacuum, sweep, mop...
Sigh. Where are the forest animals to whistle my happy little tune?