Ask my boys, and they’ll tell you I’m a bit of a control freak about my house being spic and span. Now, growing up, keeping my room tidy and making my bed was mandatory as per mum and dad. On moving out that habit was chucked. My bed was made once a week when I laundered the sheets, my dirty clothes piled up- outside the hamper. Only once having my first child did I really begin to be concerned about my home being clean and orderly. As the years have gone by I have become increasingly concerned about keeping my abode fresh as that damned daisy.
I love clean floors and I’ll sweep twice daily and mop sometimes 3 times a week. I don’t have my boys clean their rooms- I gave up that battle years ago- now I clean their rooms and make their beds. I have my cleaning routine so refined , that I can have laundry going, loos cleaned, beds made, floors swept and mopped and begin work on a second espresso to have outside while I scope the yard for dog poop, by 10am.
This week, we are again hound sitting and my clean floor obsession is being put to task. Before they arrived I lamented to my husband about the state of disarray my home would be in for 6 long days. He told me to relax, and let it slide for the week. Pretty sure I developed a facial tick/spasm at the suggestion. Day 2 and I kicked the dogs outside for the morning while I sudsed up my floors, counters and cupboard doors. Paw towels were handily placed beside each garden door, and another beside the water dish to dry up dog drool and clean up after sloppy lapping, sheets cover all the upholstery and all pillows are put away until they leave. Everyone’s happy, mostly me.
[Img.Src: Woman Cleaning 1908, Oxydol Soap]