Frowzy Cottontail

slovenly: negligent in neatness especially in dress in person, habitually dirty and unkempt. syn: frowzy

I am a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad housekeeper. Not so bad that the Board of Health has me on their regular route, but bad enough that if we had smaller dogs, we might mistake them for the hair ball that just rolled by. Or vice versa.

The cleaning, it must be done. It is not that I don't like clean, per say, although dirty is a fine excuse to close the door to visitors, which we all know I think is a good thing. But you see, I have seen the light, and the cleaning, it must start. (And as a disclaimer, we are not unsanitary, just a mess. With dog hair.)

The problem is, of course, that I went to my mother's for the weekend. And I was skeeved a bit. That's all I'll say, skeeved, since I don't want to out her or anything, but I think it's safe to say that many of us have gone to our parents, harbingers of our youthful clean memories, and well... Been skeeved. And I cannot start out being all skeevy and what-not, because if I start there, where, oh where, will my grown children find me? Somewhere worse than slovenly? Say, south of a hovel, yet north of condemned?

So in my academic way, I have a bought a book on housekeeping, which is fine, and will delay the actual work until I have studied for days on the art of housekeeping. I am 20 pages in, and while I admire this woman's devotion to all things mop and broomish, I am afraid. Her weekly cleaning list? Is a page long. It would take me a year. For the weekly cleaning. The book itself? Oh, 600 pages or so. Seriously, 600 pages on correct cleaning solutions for everything from abrasive cleansers to wine stains.

I had no idea. No clue, honestly, since I don't think I recall my mother "Fall Cleaning", especially with us participating. I remember the cleaning service that broke things, and the yelling and threatening re:room cleaning, but not her actually doing any of the things on this list, like vacuuming window treatments and all that. (page 30 or so does address hiring someone, but I'm not ready to open the door, remember? the mess?)

This must be penance for something, like the quitting of the latest volunteer assignment. Yes! I! Quit! Teacher assignments be damned, I have quit. Quit! I am relieved, and still horribly guilted every time I see the committee head's child, but the guilt can be assuaged with alcohol, so we're fine. Quit!

Back to my reading - I am kinds of excited about the next topic, "Neatening." Do you think there will be a subsection entitled "Proper methods for tying down messy children"?