I am not the tidiest person in the world. (If The Man of the Place reads this he'll be thinking "too bloody right!") I am the eldest of four and when we were children, it was my room that was always the messiest. I struggle against messiness but for the most part, I fail.
I have found someone that has actually helped me out in this. Her name is Jill. She comes in to our house once a week and cleans! She cleans up our messy house and we pay her. She doesn't judge or make little comments. Jill takes us as she finds us in her own easy going way.
She arrives on Thursday mornings and works for up to three hours managing cobwebs and bathroom floors. If we don't mess things up too badly between Thursday evening and Friday after work, the house is in a presentable state for the start of the weekend.
Before Jill the first couple of hours of our precious weekend were spent vacuuming, dusting and forcing the house into some sort of order. I really resented doing this stuff. By the time Sunday evening rolls around, I am doing the ironing and we're ready for the onslaught of the upcoming week and not feeling particularly ready. Ironing still happens on a Sunday evening. That hasn't changed. In any case, there is something satisfying about having a stack of clean and pressed clothes for Monday morning's chaos.
Now that Jill has come into our lives we can skip the whole vacuum cleaner, dust cloth stuff and go straight into our weekend. She's great. We love her and never want her to leave us.
I have always needed someone like Jill but it wasn't until about five years ago that I made the leap to paid domestic help. I still feel uncomfortable with the role of employer but I have adopted a grateful attitude and always treat Jill with respect. I want the person who straightens out my kitchen cupboards and wipes out my refrigerator to think that she isn't not only valued, but worshiped.
On Thursday mornings, I am running around picking up the big chunks. Cleaning up before the cleaner gets here. That guilt kicking in. The best thing though is getting home on Thursday evening. It makes all that guilt go away. I open up the back door and see a clean kitchen floor, wiped off counter tops, dust free book shelves and sofa cushions that have been straightened and plumped up. What an angel! I hope she never leaves us.