My house is clean and tidy for the first time in 17 weeks.
We caved and got a cleaner. I’d love to tell you it’s bliss and I am so relieved to have a clean house once more, and I am, I really am, but my OCD is on overdrive.
Every little sound that came from the room she was in and I wanted to leap up and grab whatever she was cleaning from her. I had to resist the urge to say ‘this is how I do it’ multiple times.
At one point there was a crash from upstairs and I nearly yelled: “you’d better not have broken anything!” I restrained myself only because my husband was giving me the look – the one that says ‘darling that’s not socially acceptable and calm the fuck down’.
My husband reasoned with me that I drop and break things all the time. That’s different though really – it’s my house!!
The ironic thing is that we spent hours tidying for the impending arrival of the cleaner and then afterwards had to rearrange everything she had moved back to where they belonged (OCD – it goes half an inch to the left of where she put it – how did she not realise that when she put it down? Arghhhhhh!) so some might say we could have used that time to clean ourselves.
Especially when you then factor in the post cleaning inspection that I did of every room. To be fair she had done a pretty good job mostly but she did seem to spend an awfully long time dusting random things that really didn’t need it.
And I could have lived without the awkward initial meeting where she turned up and just hovered in the doorway until I suggested I showed her around. And I could probably do without having to tell her next week not to bother dusting the toaster but it’s worth it for a clean house. Repeat it’s worth it for a clean house. It’s worth it for a clean house.