The Agony

I have a housekeeper.

Um…well, I wish. Actually, I have a cleaning service that comes in once a month. And let me tell you, it isn’t enough. The DH, in his infinite wisdom, realized after we had gremlin #3 that the odds of having a clean house and a sane-writing-wife were pretty slim if he didn’t hire me some help. Hence, the cleaning service. And they’re fabulous. They just aren’t here enough. Twice a month would be wonderful. Four times a month would be heaven. But until I make some sales, I live with once a month.

So…today was my day for the cleaning service to overhaul my house. Which meant – voila – it was also a writing day since I’d be stuck at home anyway. I spent the morning running around cleaning up and straightening all the crap left over by the kids. By eleven thirty, I was almost done.

And then the phone rang.

And I answered it.

And I wish I hadn’t.

It was the cleaning lady. Calling to say her daughter was ill and she had to reschedule me. For next Wednesday. Which means…no clean house today.


Now, for some, this wouldn’t be a big issue. But for me…uh…it’s been four weeks since my house was cleaned. It’s in DIRE need of a good cleaning!!!

That’s not to say we live in filth. We don’t. I do light cleaning – I vacuum, sweep, clean counters, straighten up, wash windows . . . I’ll even clean the bathrooms. But there are certain things I hate to do – like clean the shower, or mop the hardwood floors, or dust (my personal cleaning aversion) – so I don’t do those things anymore. I let the house keeper do them. But the week I know my cleaning lady is coming, I slack off on those other things as well. My floors haven’t been swept all week. The bathrooms are getting pretty gross, and there’s a nice thick layer of dust on just about everything.

So when she called today, my first response was….”Uh…No! I need you! Forget the sick kid! You have to clean my house!!!!”

And then reality smacked me in the side of the head. And I sucked it up and acted like a grown up. Although inside I was cursing every sick child on the planet.

So on top of still having a dirty house, I didn’t get any writing done today because I felt guilty for the state of the house and did other things that needed to be done – like the checkbook and the bills (Joy) – in an attempt to avoid cleaning what the cleaning lady was supposed to clean. And now I’m looking at my dirty house thinking, “Well, I could go clean those filthy bathrooms, but what’s the point? The service is coming on Wed. Cleaning them now is like wasting my time and energy.”

Isn’t it?