I can remember a time when I enjoyed the feeling of accomplishment when something went from dirty to clean. I remember visiting my husband's younger brother, Rob, and spending a good twenty minutes cleaning his coffee maker because it was just too dirty for me to look at. Of course, this gave my husband the impression that I was a keeper.
Somehow, that feeling of accomplishment never comes anymore. The cleaning is just something that has to be done and is then destroyed before it can even be appreciated. Plus, who really appreciates it, besides my husband? My sons are perfectly happy to live with the clutter, toys and books strewn around them. When it gets to me, I pick up. But, when I HAVE to clean the house, it feels like such pointless work to me.
Granted, one must remember that I am living in a house which belongs to my mother-in-law. Thus, when she visits, she is perfectly entitled to expect that it is being cared for in a much more effective way than I usually muster. She is quite vocal about the fact that we have "too many things." So, when she comes, I have to scramble to find a place to hide those numerous things. Then, after hiding them, I forget where I put them. So when that important paper for school (right now it is the annoying one-time-fundraiser form for PTA where they are expecting every student to send in at least 15 different addresses to as many different states as possible to send a walk-a-thon form to - this is another rant, in and of itself, because the person on the receiving end gets absolutely nothing for their involvement and yet our PTA has pinned all of its hopes on this one fund-raiser for the year, even making you feel guilty because each fund-raising packet cost the school $1.50 - and I hate the idea of petitioning my friends and relatives to give money to a cause they feel no sense of connection to. And this is only the beginning, because Trevor just joined the Cub Scouts. Ay-yi-yi!) is due to be turned in, I will be at a total loss as to where I hid the stack of papers it was once in. If I could keep my stack, I'd know exactly where things were.
Alas, this problem is not going to go away. I must face it head-on. I must stop my blog-whining and get down to work this morning. Who knows? Maybe I'll be able to keep it looking spiffy for the three hours between when my kids get home from school and when my hubby gets home from work, so at least he'll be impressed, even if my mother-in-law isn't. And hey, at least I no longer have a dog underfoot. That eliminates the endless problem of dog-hairs! So things aren't really as bad as they seem, are they?
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