Friday, February 27, 2009

Coming Home to a Clean House

I know I don't really deserve a housekeeper. I don't have a real job (although I babysit my grandchildren everyday-is that a job? If you knew Andrew, you wouldn't have to ask).

But ya know, a few years ago I started thinking about how much time I spent cleaning toilets and mopping floors and dusting and decided I had better things to do with my time. Of course, I didn't want to have inches of dust, sticky floors, or gucky toilets. So the only way to have time and a clean house was to hire someone to clean it for me. Her name is Tamara.

When I come home on Friday and smell the Pledge or the Fabuloso in the air...the shine...the lack of heart just explodes with joy.

I don't let any children over, and I don't cook. It's beautiful for the whole day! Then I'm ready for the weekend and the grandkids and the fingers touching everything and the cracker crumbs and the toys under foot and total, wonderful chaos that is my family...and my heart explodes with joy.

1 comment:

kashurst said...

That is the best description of that feeling! Exploding with joy! I'm having one of the Young Women come over tomorrow to clean mine! I can't wait!