Friday, August 02, 2013

bases covered

A few months ago I caved.
"A gift to myself" I said.

I hired a cleaning lady.

Seriously? In your tiny house? It seems like such a waste of money!
No, no it's not.

See, I've mentioned before- I'm an "outty" organizer, raised by a family of "inny" organizers. Things need to be tidy in their place out of sight so I don't suffer from guilt. My deceased mother's voice "don't you care about the things you own?" rings in my ears when I look at my cluttered dresser... my father's actual voice "your mother would have had a fit if she saw your counter" as he walks through my kitchen.

I feel bad when things are a mess. But, I don't know where stuff is if it's out of sight.

Enter the cleaning lady. (A coworker who has a passion for cleaning). My house makes me giggle when I walk in the door... it's that clean.

But I have a dirty (messy) secret. My bedroom has been an embarrassing mess/disaster for months. To the point that I told the cleaning lady that I didn't want her to do my room.... So I've kept my door closed when anyone enters the house... I pile things in the corners... on top of the dresser. Clothing lays in a pile beside the bed. Not quite to the point of looking like a hoarder's home... but close.

When I go out of town I get a twinge of "I'd better not die in a car accident or end up in hospital- someone will see my room".

This week the cleaning lady came... and decided to clean my room. I had a few moments of  panic "what will she think of me"... but mostly it's been relief.

At least now if I die, it won't be from embarrassment. 

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