Well, I suppose a man's work really isn't either, but at least men generally have established hours. To be perfectly honest, most days I would much rather go shopping or read or poke around on the internet rather than take care of this apartment. Yesterday though I decided to bite the bullet and get a few things done. So I pick up things a bit in the living area and pull out the vacuum. That makes the floor look nice, but the table and bookcase are all in disarray. I straighten up the bookcase, replace the dirty place mats on the table, and wipe it down. I even wipe a lint brush over the lamp shade. For some reason I seriously don't like doing dishes, but after a "You can do it" from my husband I get all the dishes rinsed and stacked in readiness to be washed after supper. My dear husband helps wash for a little while before going to play a computer game with his brother. There's a stack of plates left that Allen has promised to wash later. "Eh, why not?" I even carefully wipe down all the counters after I finish.
Now I really do try to keep things up around here, but with school and holidays and my recent round with the flu I've never really established a routine. I felt really good about how the apartment looked yesterday evening. I even lit some candles at supper time for no good reason. That was yesterday though. Today I went off to finish Christmas shopping and track down cookie ingredients (I had no idea meringue powder was so hard to find), and when I come back the apartment needs going over again. So maybe the floor is vacuumed, but the living area and kitchen have apparently spontaneously generated a new layer of clutter. And as I was writing this my pot boiled a bit too energetically and now I have a puddle on the stove. And it's almost nine o'clock. Well, I did feel energized and renewed after I'd "renewed" my surroundings. I suppose I should consider this as another opportunity for emotional uplift. Hmmm...I could stand some uplifting.
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