Dramatic title, no?
But it only reflects my deepest feelings, my utter contempt and hatred of (constantly) cleaning my house (in this case, "constantly" means over and over and over again. And again.)
At least several times a day, I begin sentences with, "But didn't I just_____??!!" (wash the floor, wipe down the counters, sweep Nadav's cereal trail, do dishes, pick a kippah up off the floor.)
For example, I washed the floor yesterday. Approximately 2.5 hours later, it looked like Pompeii swept through.
And I despair even more when I realize that there are people who somehow manage not to live in constant muck and filth and cups! (Oh cups, you kill me! How are there so many of you? How??? HOW???)
Once, I had to get a key from someone in the building. It was a Thursday afternoon. I stopped by, in the middle of the day. This is a woman with a passle of little kids, who was also pregnant at the time, and during my random drop-in, I noticed that her house. Was. Spotless. On a Thursday! A Thursday! By Thursdays, I've given up and played the "It'll get cleaned on Friday" card. Okay, sometimes I start playing that card on Tuesday.
But not this superwoman. Clean floors, empty counters, clean floors, clear table, clean floors. And clean floors.
How does she do it?
I would venture that perhaps she has a community of houselves working for her. Obviously, though, that is ridiculous.
Everyone knows they were freed in Book 7.
What is her secret? Does she stash her kids in the machsan and do her cooking at a neighbor's? Has her family learned how to hover, so that dusty little feet don't mingle with the drops of water that are on the floor because family members WILL fling their wet hands all over the place while looking for a towel, which is, of course, right in front of them? And of course, you know what happens when you mix dust and water. You get a Very Unhappy Mama.
To lessen the soul-crushingness of it all, I try to squeeze in as much straightening up and cleaning as I can while the kids are still up - I know, it's like trying to sop up Niagara Falls with an Israeli paper towel, but still - because if I reenter the kitchen after doing the bedtime jig and see a sink full of dishes and aruchat eser boxes that need filling, and all I really want to do is sit down and write a blog post where I complain about cleaning, well, I may just have to curl up in a fetal position on the floor...no, wait, it's filthy....on the sofa....whoops, covered in tissues and Uno cards and ouch, a library book (Digression: Uno goes MUCH faster when you are missing half the cards)....maybe on my bed....no, not there, covered in unfolded mounds of laundry....
So you see the reasons for my despair. Can't even find a place to curl up and despair.
Oh well. Guess I'll just go wash a cup.
Wearing My Grandmother's Ring
1 day ago