My husband thinks I am very, very funny. The night before the cleaning lady comes, I spend 2 hours picking up the house. (He helps.)
In his mind, the cleaning lady is there to clean, which clearly means that she is also going to pick up all of our junk. I, on the other hand, believe that they are here to actually CLEAN, and that means I have to clear all of the stuff out of the way-all of the stuff that never quite gets put away during the week, or that my three darling destructo children pull out from every nook and cranny.
This process has gotten significantly more lax as time goes by. Presently, the kitchen table is piled with stuff. It’s going to stay piled with stuff. I’ve decided if the kitchen, bathrooms, and floors are clean, and the linens on the beds are changed, I’m a happy camper. In addition, I am so busy picking up stuff the night before that the kitchen counters and island don’t get wiped down, nor does the floor underneath the bar stools get swept. It probably appears to the cleaners that we are the biggest group of pigs known to man. However, I figure that cleaning counters IS something they are here to do, so I can live with having my image tarnished in this department.
When I arrive home tomorrow, I will marvel at my shiny hardwoods, take a whiff of the slight, yet pleasant odor of cleaner in the air….and then watch as the children destroy it all within 5 minutes.