Familiar places
Having made it home in the proper number of pieces, I am now dealing with the after-effects of five-and-a-half days away, many of which I do not wish to speak of at this time.
The most difficult aspect of returning home from a trip is the lack of housekeeping. Five nights in a room where the maid comes in and vacuums, cleans the shower, makes the bed, and generally tidies up throws into stark contrast my own shortcomings in this area. While I do not live in filth, my house is cluttered with the paraphenalia of my life — books, CDs, DVDs, artwork, tchokes, et cetera — and the rambling and wrestling of the cats across the shelves and stacks keeps things in a constant state of disorder. (Yes, I live alone, why do you ask?) Plus, the sound of a vacuum on a hardwood floor gives me an immediate migraine, so there does tend to be the occasional cat-sized drift of shed fur.
But it is home, and I am in it, and I suppose that's all that should matter right now. But I still wish I had a maid.
5 Comments:
Feeling the same way about returning home to a cluttered place, I clean mine before I leave. Seems to make things a lot easier when I return.
Oh and I bet you wish she was French too :-)
Actually, I'd rather she was efficient and spoke English. *anyone* can wear a French Maid outfit.
Except me, obviously.
"cat sized drift of shed fur" That was beautiful and eloquent. I wish I had said it myself. I have tumbleweeds of cat hair rolling across my bamboo floors at this very moment, but I cant seem to get the energy to haul out the vacuum.
you know, i've been thinking that domestic engineering might be my calling. maybe we could work out an arrangement...
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