You know what sucks? Cleaning my own house. Sucks sucks suck.
Remember our cleaning lady who went missing in July? Yeah. She never came back. Ben and I found other uses for the cash (like lattes! and the consumerist orgy that is Chrismukkah! and groceries!), so we started cleaning up after ourselves again.
First, we did it Wednesday nights after Harry went to bed, but soon the days got too short, and we realized that we needed light to clean effectively. How'd we realize that? Finding cobwebs in our kitchen. Which? Nothing new for Ben- he had maggots in hs sink in Muncie. Yeah, not going to forget that anytime soon, even though it was 6 years ago; we didn't even live together, and he's a really good cleaner now.
Now we clean on Sunday afternoons. Usually during Harry's naps, only sometimes he doesn't nap enough, and he gets to help.
Which, you can see, he really enjoys.
Enjoys so much, in fact, that he cries and cries when the vacuuming is done.
He really takes his work seriously.
One thing that our tenure of not cleaning up after ourselves taught me? Cleaning is not my problem. Seriously, I used to spend HOURS a day cleaning up after all of since I guess I figured since I was the one home all day, it was my job. Then we got help around the house, and I could use my down time to work on my dissertation. The result? Amazing progress.
Now I don't clean during the day, except the kitchen after meals. And I make the bed of course (or Ben does) After dinner, one of us folds laundry and cleans up all the toys upstairs and the other one of us does dishes, runs the dishwasher, sweeps the downstairs, and mops the kitchen. And you know? I barely miss the cleaning lady after all.
Except on Sunday afternoons, but luckily, I've got Harryella.