Well, a couple of weeks later and the mess that is my right knee is best described as colourful. It has until next Friday to pull its head in before I take it to see a trained medical professional. (A trained medical professional who looks at peoples insides for a living thinks I’ve just (just?) smashed the tendon that connects patella to tibia. Choice. Six months. Not so choice.
So, as a result I have taken a spot of time to reassess. As one does. Sometimes with an icepack. Icepacks are cool. (See what I did there? Oops. That wasn’t intentional.) I did in fact acquire a new pair of runners that have tread and I’ve managed to stay acquainted with the vertical plane for the last couple of weeks. I’ve also started with the going to bed early (11pm is so early. Shut up.) and most importantly, the leaving of work by 5pm. I’ve compromised and as long as I’m out the back door by 5.15pm, that’s leaving at 5 (mainly because my damn work computer is fucking slow and if I don’t shut it down properly it does Bad Things), and if I’m in bed by ten past 11. Yeah, you get the picture… Aiming for seven hours sleep each night, anyway.
And the injuries are also making me reconsider my standards. There’s always been a slight degree of cognitive dissonance with me and housekeeping. On the one hand, I’m not by nature an orderly person. Organised, yes. Orderly? Pfft. Begone with you. Left to my own devices, I let things slide to what I like to call Critical Mess then I tidy it up properly, give it a jolly good scrubbing and move along. On the other hand, I live with three other people who also like to let things slide to Critical Mess levels, and I’m yet to find where the level at which they feel the need to put their own dirty washing in the damn washing basket rather than the lounge room floor. And on the other hand (I’m a gemini, I’ve still got a spare hand), I don’t like to live in total squalor. So I have standards, they’re variable and revolve around pee-less toilet floors, dusting and chromatically organised wardrobes.
This brings me to what I am thinking of calling Miss Maudy’s Hierarchy of Housework where I work out the minimum I can get away with without the house falling round my ears and me turning into a banshee of the screeching variety?
- What is an absolute *must do*?
- What can be let slide but still needs doing?
- What can be delegated?
- What do I enjoy?
- What do I hate?
Must Dos are thus:
- Food procurement
- Planning (meals, weekly, diaries etc)
- Bill payment
- Washing (and ironing and folding and putting away)
- Clean toilet
- Clean kitchen work surfaces
- Keeping shit off the floor (I am old. I have falls)
Sliders are therefore thus:
- Clean bathroom
- Properly scrubbed up kitchen
- Immaculately organised cupboards
Suffice to say that over the last couple of weeks, we’ve had food (and interesting meals), the bills have been paid, the toilet is clean and there’s nothing left on the floor for me to stand on or fall over (and yes, I will so throw your work boots outside for the doggie to eat if you take them off in the middle of the back door way) And aside from the oops I forgot to get someone to collect a kid, and what do you mean I have to have this x-ray done before the kid’s orthodontist appointment, can I reschedule the damn appointment? things have been wombling along nicely (including the cooking of a three course meal for eleventy bazillion people yesterday. Ok, it was 12 or 14 or something. A lot.)
It also appears that keeping shit off the floor includes sweeping up the dog hair. That dog sheds a LOT. Also, I procured a jobbie that involves a wet cloth and a stick and wiping the floor. Works a treat in the toilet and on the kitchen floor when the damn doggie drags paper towel soaked in pork fat all over the floor (falls, people. I fall over a lot).
But shit’s dusty and there’s an interesting Pollock-esque toothpaste display in the bathroom. Also, floor is a bit sticky in places. I’d also like to reclaim my weekends so there’s more crochet and blogging and less scrubbing. And um. I’d really rather have immaculately organised cupboards than scrub the damn bathroom.
So, think I’d like someone to come in every couple of weeks, move all the damn furniture, mop and vacuum properly, pick up shit and dust under it, wipe down the cupboards and scrub out the shower.
(15 minutes to spare, g’nite!)