Day 5 playing nurse and I have to admit that some of the housework has escaped me. It would be easier if I wasn’t out of the apartment for 10 hours a day or if my partner had two working appendages, but Friday’s are my late start day and I was able to attack some of the chores that have been looming over me this past week. One chore that I haven’t been able to get a handle of is the laundry. In the old place we had a washer/dryer in the apartment and now I have to walk my tired bones alllll the way down to the laundry room and pay $1 to clean my dirty apparel and another $.50 to dry it. I’m exaggerating or course. Not about the cost, but the room is just below our apartment and it takes 30 seconds to get there. I’m just lazy about it I guess. I really dislike doing laundry. But does anyone really enjoy it????
It’s terrible I know. I’m sorry Grandma.
And obviously this isn’t just a week’s worth of laundry. I think it’s like 3 weeks. We have a lot of clothes.
My desire for keeping a handle on this and other such chores, like vacuuming and mopping the bathroom floor, are to create some kind of routine, even though the bathroom is a remodeling project we are working with the best professional services for this. A schedule, if you will, that requires a certain time on a certain day to be devoted to doing certain chores so that it all doesn’t get dumped onto my also busy weekend. Hats off to all you mother’s out there, especially those of you who are working outside of the home. I don’t know how you do it. My fear is that I need to start waking up at 6am (like I’ve said I was going to but haven’t been able to yet) and get these burdens out of the way while I’m still fresh and not distracted. Okay, so I wake up earlier. Well I was already planning on waking up early to exercise, not that my toe is healed enough (yay!). By the time I get home, I’m tired and hungry and have to cook dinner, then I have to serve it, and clean up and make sure The All-Star is comfortable or washed or tied to the bed-post to have his arm elevated. I’m exaggerating again, but only slightly. As the days go by, he’s been able to power through the pain a bunch more but there’s still things that he’d be happy to have done for him. And I don’t mind. It’s just what to do with the dishes in the sink, or the office that still hasn’t figured itself out, or the curtains I near to hang and the picture that’s propped up against the couch. It’s just a lot of stuff for one little lady.
How do you keep your homes in order?