I have mostly been fortunate enough to employ a cleaner for a weekly visit to my house. I always felt odd about this, as my parents never countenanced such a thing, but times change I suppose: I mostly worked full-time (or nearly) and was financially able to do it. Apart from a year when I didn’t work, when I nobly wielded the duster myself as penance, I have learned to get over my stupid guilt and pay someone else to do most of the dirty work for me.
In these interesting and isolating times, we have ‘paused’ the agency clean (which had recently been reduced to fortnightly in my end-of-financial-year budgeting spreadsheet recalibration exercise) and today I determined was this week’s Cleaning Day. Alone in the house* apart from the irritated cats – and whilst the other occupant took his chances with ‘going out once for exercise’ – I merrily cleaned surfaces with anti-bac, dusted and vacuumed. I believe I have achieved a reasonable level of cleanliness, if not to a fully professional standard.
This cheerfulness and positivity will no doubt not last – but I will make the most of it while it does.
*Being alone for this exercise is important. It allows me to sing loudly and repetitively throughout. I believe this is a family trait inherited from my mother’s side. My granny sang hymns constantly whilst tidying, cooking or sewing. Today, inexplicably, it was the Birdie Song. Trying times.