Cleaning up on a lazy MLK day
I didn't expect to have today off -- after three years working in Nashua, when New Hampshire doesn't observe Martin Luther King Day, I kinda got used to working on this January holiday. But I'll take a paid day off, by gum. Slept until 11 a.m. today and did some housework. We had my parents over yesterday so I did a company clean, so it was a matter of picking up and straightening.
I used to be a notorious slob. My old bedroom in Melrose continually looked like a bomb hit it. When I got my first apartment back in mid-1998, I swore I would change. Since it was a 20 x 20' studio, I had little choice but to keep it clean, else I would be overrun by clutter and my archenemy, dirt. And so every Saturday, I cleaned my apartment, top to bottom. I actually looked at it as an investment in my living quarters and found (and find) it mildly therapeutic. When I moved in late 1999 to my one-bedroom, I kept it up. Since it was less than 500 square feet, it didn't take long, and it made me feel good.
In late 2000 when my lease was up, I gave up the one-bedroom to move into M's two-bedroom townhouse condo. Now I was cleaning for two. And M so appreciated it. Every Saturday, I wouldn't get dressed until late afternoon as I washed clothes, vacuumed, made beds and cleaned bathrooms. I got interested in the cleaning aisle in the supermarket and all the latest cleaning innovations. I became MY MOM.
After we got married in 2002, we realized we had outgrown our condo and wanted our own house. So in late 2002, I moved again -- for the fourth time in four years. Oy. We bought our house, and M jokes he's going to buy us cemetary plots in the back, because he never wants to move again. I'm with him. And you know how I bonded with my three-bedroom, two bath house? You got it: I spend every weekend cleaning the motherfucker. And when it's nice out, I work out in the yard, too. Sometimes I worry that when we have children, my house isn't going to look as nice, because I won't have the time I have now to clean and take care of it. And my friends with little ones have pretty much assured me this is the case. But I look at my friends who rent and I'm so grateful for my house. It makes me happy to just come home to it. If I don't have to go to work, I welcome the snow, because it means I can light a shitload of candles and curl up under my afghan and read, or be with my M, and/or watch a bunch of old DVDs. I'm such a grownup.
I used to be a notorious slob. My old bedroom in Melrose continually looked like a bomb hit it. When I got my first apartment back in mid-1998, I swore I would change. Since it was a 20 x 20' studio, I had little choice but to keep it clean, else I would be overrun by clutter and my archenemy, dirt. And so every Saturday, I cleaned my apartment, top to bottom. I actually looked at it as an investment in my living quarters and found (and find) it mildly therapeutic. When I moved in late 1999 to my one-bedroom, I kept it up. Since it was less than 500 square feet, it didn't take long, and it made me feel good.
In late 2000 when my lease was up, I gave up the one-bedroom to move into M's two-bedroom townhouse condo. Now I was cleaning for two. And M so appreciated it. Every Saturday, I wouldn't get dressed until late afternoon as I washed clothes, vacuumed, made beds and cleaned bathrooms. I got interested in the cleaning aisle in the supermarket and all the latest cleaning innovations. I became MY MOM.
After we got married in 2002, we realized we had outgrown our condo and wanted our own house. So in late 2002, I moved again -- for the fourth time in four years. Oy. We bought our house, and M jokes he's going to buy us cemetary plots in the back, because he never wants to move again. I'm with him. And you know how I bonded with my three-bedroom, two bath house? You got it: I spend every weekend cleaning the motherfucker. And when it's nice out, I work out in the yard, too. Sometimes I worry that when we have children, my house isn't going to look as nice, because I won't have the time I have now to clean and take care of it. And my friends with little ones have pretty much assured me this is the case. But I look at my friends who rent and I'm so grateful for my house. It makes me happy to just come home to it. If I don't have to go to work, I welcome the snow, because it means I can light a shitload of candles and curl up under my afghan and read, or be with my M, and/or watch a bunch of old DVDs. I'm such a grownup.
Labels: cleaning
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