This weekend was spent indoors, cleaning. It was the perfect weather for it seeing as the temperature was below freezing most of the weekend. I like my living area to be free from dust, as fresh and clean as the next person, but I personally find it hard to keep up with the day to day commitment. Sure I straighten up and go mad hatter crazy every now and again with a Clorox wipe and the Wetjet Swiffer. I’ve even gone so far as adding Martha Stewart’s Homekeeping Handbook to my library (thank goodness for the plastic book cover or the dust mite would get it for sure!); it’s right up there with my mom’s 1979 expanded and revised edition of Mary Ellen’s Best of Helpful Hints. It’s a tricky chore and there are tons of articles available about why (and how) you should go about it.
My lack of excitement (and slight aversion) to household cleaning comes from my mom. My mom was a maniac cleaner. After working a full week as a school secretary she would wake up at the crack of dawn on a Saturday and clean the house from top to bottom. Most of the time my brother and I would wake up to the sound of the vacuum cleaner just outside our bedroom doors. (Yes I was negligent even back then thinking that if my room was clean I didn’t have to do anything else.) Sometimes she would yell us out of bed and go on a tirade for us to help her. A begrudging task that we often performed half-heartedly until she yelled at us and redid the work anyway (something I never understood). It’s possible my mom was OCD when it came to cleaning.
modern vintage ink 