Well, here it is Spring again when a young woman’s fancy turns to…cleaning. Yechh. I pay Nice Cleaning Lady and her son good money every other week to clean my house. Unfortunately, that cleaning doesn’t involve things like upholstery that reeks of trusty canine companion nor does it include the mountains of cobwebs on the upper decorative shelves in the kitchen. Why do builders put in things like shelves high up above kitchen cabinets? There is no good reason. You can’t really store anything there — it has to be decorative otherwise you will get funny looks from your company as they gaze upwards at your dusty pressure cooker or other useless culinary accoutrement.
With Devoted Spouse out of town, I’m getting antsy for something to do. I’ve read two books this week, worked on my knitting, or unraveling as the case may be, started a new crosstitch project, written this blog, shopped till the stock at Target was running low, watched 2 cry-in-your-diet-soda chick flicks, and 2 not so memorable other videos, eaten enough junk food to make my Jenny Craig counselor throw me out of the program, and now it’s time to actually do something useful.
The fact that friends of Devoted Spouse are arriving this weekend is really the reason behind my frantic attempt to make this house look like something out of a magazine. I’m striving for House Beautiful but my sights might be a bit high — maybe if I get domestic and go all kitcheny no one will notice that family room clutter. Heaven help the stray guest who accidentally opens the door to my crap craft room while searching for the upstairs guest bathroom. Maybe I’ll just cram everything in sight into the closet and hope for the best.
This is not going to be fun. I hate anything that might make me break a nail or, heaven forbid – break a sweat. And what happens if I fall off the step stool? Dialing 911 is not in trusty canine companion’s bag of tricks.
Maybe I’ll start with the cobwebs on the pot rack and then work my way to the shelves. That way if I find my strength waning, I can always whip up a quick batch of pasta to see me through.
Here I go — trusty microfiber cloth in hand. I think it’s time to re-negotiate Nice Cleaning Lady’s contract.