Well, Homebase has a 20% sale on today and I need a few things to prepare the home for the visit from She who must be obeyed. One coat of paint is already on the living room and kitchen ceiling, that took 4 days off from work. This weekend a second coat was promised, but Renfrew is coming to Paisley for the rugby so we shall see.
I don't know why the men i marry never share my zeal for a nice home, tastefully decorated, within a budget. I know we rent, I know it isn't our home, but I feel a little decorating helps me nest. In my original home Saturday morning we got up and dressed, had a light breakfast and set to work. If you were male, your work was outside, where you went, taking the house garbage with you. Mom and I needed a clean garbage base to start our projects of toss and clean.
In addition to cleaning the house, Mom kept the laundry going and made something really special for lunch. Sometimes it was American lasagna (very different than the stuff served here with chips). We would also work our hearts out for her stuffed pork chops, or her split pea soup. Towards the end of the time, we stopped around noon or oneish, Mom would shower and set her hair, that was everyone's signal it was ok to start wrapping up whatever project you were on and go clean your own room.
Now the man job depended on time of year. Most of the time it was mowing grass and trimming weeds around the house, but when there was snow, it was shoveling, and dad dragging out the snow plow. We were fortunate that Dad had built a garage, so the cars were easier to get started in the morning when they went to work. My Dad would go out to the garage, start Moms car and get the heat rolling for her. My Dad had a lot of faults, but her took good care of us.
Bill and I were the scullery maid and yard boy respectively. Both of us thought the other had the better job. I envied Billy
a whole morning alone alone with Dad, and he thought housework was pretty much telling the machines what to do. Ah, the grass is always greener. My brother has a touch of OCD, his room was a showplace of tidy. I am a pack rat, and Mom entered my room once a year with a large garbage bag and threw away my treasures. She had no way to know how much this stuff meant to me. It was like a wall i built between me and the chaos of our lives.
So now, if you love me,instead of a gift--(and i detest flowers), please give me a couple hours getting my house back--we call it spring cleaning. If my home doesn;t look good, and spotless, I will have even less confidence when SHE arrives. With my disability I see things that I used to be able to do, and Iget so frustrated. SO anyway, if you love me, help me. Yes I know you live in America and I am only dreaming, but it helps to vent.
What I won't do to get to see my brother again.
Hey what colour do you like for our kitchen walls?
Blessings.
I don't know why the men i marry never share my zeal for a nice home, tastefully decorated, within a budget. I know we rent, I know it isn't our home, but I feel a little decorating helps me nest. In my original home Saturday morning we got up and dressed, had a light breakfast and set to work. If you were male, your work was outside, where you went, taking the house garbage with you. Mom and I needed a clean garbage base to start our projects of toss and clean.
In addition to cleaning the house, Mom kept the laundry going and made something really special for lunch. Sometimes it was American lasagna (very different than the stuff served here with chips). We would also work our hearts out for her stuffed pork chops, or her split pea soup. Towards the end of the time, we stopped around noon or oneish, Mom would shower and set her hair, that was everyone's signal it was ok to start wrapping up whatever project you were on and go clean your own room.
Now the man job depended on time of year. Most of the time it was mowing grass and trimming weeds around the house, but when there was snow, it was shoveling, and dad dragging out the snow plow. We were fortunate that Dad had built a garage, so the cars were easier to get started in the morning when they went to work. My Dad would go out to the garage, start Moms car and get the heat rolling for her. My Dad had a lot of faults, but her took good care of us.
Bill and I were the scullery maid and yard boy respectively. Both of us thought the other had the better job. I envied Billy
a whole morning alone alone with Dad, and he thought housework was pretty much telling the machines what to do. Ah, the grass is always greener. My brother has a touch of OCD, his room was a showplace of tidy. I am a pack rat, and Mom entered my room once a year with a large garbage bag and threw away my treasures. She had no way to know how much this stuff meant to me. It was like a wall i built between me and the chaos of our lives.
So now, if you love me,instead of a gift--(and i detest flowers), please give me a couple hours getting my house back--we call it spring cleaning. If my home doesn;t look good, and spotless, I will have even less confidence when SHE arrives. With my disability I see things that I used to be able to do, and Iget so frustrated. SO anyway, if you love me, help me. Yes I know you live in America and I am only dreaming, but it helps to vent.
What I won't do to get to see my brother again.
Hey what colour do you like for our kitchen walls?
Blessings.
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