Clean cleaner cleanest

I am not a very good housewife. The mothering thing I do with gusto and pride. The housework - not so much. I will cook, but use every shortcut in the book. I will iron, but only if Babes doesn't have a shirt left for the morning. Cleaning - great, but only if we're going to have visitors. The weird thing is, I quite enjoy it all. I get engrossed in menial tasks, and I will forget about the rest of the world. I will use it for meditation (seriously - ironing meditation is marvellous), and feel happier with the world afterwards. I just never seem to be able to get started.

My friend May and I have this arrangement where she sometimes wants a little extra cash, and I get so behind on the housework I want to tear my hair out. She happens to be a great housewife. The universe seems to do that sometimes - bring people together who can help each other out. As I'm typing this, she is vacuuming the stairs. I have been spurred into action to tidy the place and start the laundry. This always happens when she comes, because otherwise I feel too awkward with her cleaning and me sitting doing nothing. Except for that one time when I fell asleep. Woops. And except for just now, because I couldn't help going online for a minute.

I should be getting on with the laundry.

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So now the house is nice and clean. Well, was, because the kids have been running around and I'm cooking, and life happens, right? I'm planning on doing a whole lot more laundry now, in my sparkly house. Except tomorrow I can't. And I'm not sure about Friday...