We're going out of town for a long weekend. This morning rushing to do the last minute things to get out the door, I realized that I'm cleaning. Curious. Cleaning is generally a good habit, but in the rush, it slows things down. I'm cleaning because the cat sitter is coming. No, that's not exactly it. She's seen the whirlwind of dustbunnies and piles of books before. It's that this time, SHE IS GOING TO CLEAN THE APARTMENT. Ick.
It brings to mind when I worked as a housekeeper after college. I remember the harried mom with two privileged bratty children. They never put away a single toy. She always apologized for the endless loads of laundry (always dumped in the laundry room, so that one had to wade through the doorway), the week's worth of dishes covering all of the counters. I restored order, but always wondered why she couldn't just put the dishes in the DISHWASHER instead of on the counter. How this would seem to give one blip of order in her chaos.
So here I am cleaning for the cleaning lady. Go figure.
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