I'm starting to notice that my house is getting much dirtier since Bev, the professional, is no longer with us.
I see terrible things like dust building up on the baseboards and gunky corners under my kitchen cabinets AND cob webs above my bed, on my hanging lights and in my laundry room. Dirt, dust and grime. Oh my! Hey! Speaking of grime, did you know that the big ol' stainless steel fan hood above my range needs to be cleaned? I found out that it's VERY greasy up there. A tricky contortionist position needs to be held in order to reach into it's nasty crevasses and a shower cap should be worn at all times. The last time I swept my mudroom floor I collected enough of dirt/ bark/ school papers/dirty socks/& something resembling an old chewed up yellow Starburst - to fill a small pool. My bathroom mirrors look better with the splatter of spittle then they do with the dreadful cleaning streaks. None of this is good. Neither my competency nor my attitude is improving. I'm simply not made for this kind of work.
I'm thinking that I may need a real job. What would be better than cleaning my house? Animal control officer in the Everglades? Maybe. Publicist for Charlie Sheen? Perhaps. Rodeo clown? Absolutely. Let me know if you're hiring. Oh, and if you're blessed with a cleaning lady you should give her a big hug today.
~ Poor Pathetic Me.
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