I am so embarrassed at how filthy my house has gotten I cannot even take before and after pictures. I’ve been have a bad bit with my cluster headaches—oh, three or four a day for the last six weeks—and let me be the first to tell you; if the housekeeper doesn’t do it, it won’t get done.
So I’m pulling out all of the linens and washing them (in the middle of the night) and hanging them outside to dry, since I live in the center of Hell.
My dishwasher is on the fritz, so I am I washing everything by hand in ammonia and HOT water and them pouring a teakettle full of boiling water so I know it’s at least clean. I can get everything I can reach washed, laid out on the island and then covered with a clean bath towel and my son will reluctantly put everything away.
We’ve lived here 18 months and for most of that time, my husband has been gravely ill, so I’ve had my hands full tending to everything and the house and with a headache, I feel like Sisyphus on overtime. And my husband is one of these spur of the moment guys…”let’s go get it! Let’s go buy it! How long can it possibly TAKE you?” So I’m just now figuring out how I want my bedspread to look (I bought the fabric from Targets Shabby Chick line but I think they used Chinese inmates to put the stuff together. It’s nice fabric but shoddy construction.)
I want to get all the dishes clean and my bead board kitchen clean…I think that really is my number one goal.
Then I want to unpick the heretofore mentioned shoddy workmanship, wash it in boiling water and then take it downstairs to the cleaners to have pressed. My suggestion for anyone thinking about buying a King sized bed is DON”T. It is just too big to make, clean, wash, tidy…too much. And the sheets and blankets are a fortune. I don’t even think Madonna needs a king sized bed. Or anyone else on the planet.
While all this stuff is being laundered, I’m moving furniture and dusting and polishing like Mrs. Krachett. I’m trying to get most of the furniture OUT of the room. As much as I love my husband, he simply cannot pass up a really great deal. At one time I had three pianos and an organ in the downstairs. I almost went crazy. So when we moved, ONLY the stuff I loved—and there is plenty of it—made the move. I don’t know what he did with the rest of the stuff and I don’t even care as long as I don’t have to tippy toe around it.
MY bathrooms are so big that with all the bathroom-y stuff in them, there is still room for wing chairs to drape your nighty and robe on. It looks cool IF YOUR ARE IN A MOVIE but not so much if that’s your every day life. I haven’t found the right fabric for the bathroom curtains yet but I do have the fabric for the master suite, the guest suite and the library. Mike doesn’t quite get that you just don’t get the scissors out and start whacking. You have to measure and think and draft and think and measure another couple of times and then cut and pin and baste and try it on to make sure this really is what you want and THEN you can drag out the sewing machine. And I neither want help, need help and I have no intention of hiring this out. I wish sometimes I wasn’t so picky. But when I priced out picky, it wound up with a starting bid of THIRTEEN THOUSAND DOLLARS, which is a lot of money. So we are doing it at my pace, which is driving him crazy.
Once it’s done, I’m having a big open house but not until then. This is a construction zone we are living in and it is HARD to do. I know they do it all the time on HGTV but my name has none of those letters in it, so it is hard for me. Luckily, it’s not a money pit but it certainly is a time suck. Sometimes all I want to do is listen to my judge shows and knit.
Rant over. Got to get my night stand oiled and tidied. I know a gal who has lived in her new house for about 15 years. No drapes. The wall paper just recently got hung up. The front steps are wrong (too fast) and still unfinished (no tile, just the stucco and chicken wire). She spent two years working full time and getting a graduate degree, so the level of cleanliness equaled an Olympic sized dive there, too. The last real conversation we had was how to get the toilets clean. Really. We are educated out the wazoo with really good grades in hard subjects (UCLA graduate MATH degree, hello?) and I am totally into finding a way to keep my toilets clean and the room in general smell better than a bathroom at a truck stop. Somehow, I don’t think Hillary and Michelle are chatting about toilets and ring around the collar. And Kate Middleton, bless her, she is going to miss all of this housewifer-y stuff and just have to look good, smile all the time and keep her weight down. (I think I have an easier job, all and all).
I’m starting to think that men made up this whole feminism thing so that we have to work, commute, take care of the 2.5 children we have while the hospital chucks us out their doors in 24 hours AND we have to cook, clean, exercise, smell good, have shiny sex goddess hair and drop our panties instantly at any given moment. Oh, they will tell you none of that is true.
But I think they are lying.