I am not faithful with the habit, but after a week of being away and with a dog whose hair is debating on whether or not it should be winter or spring, I couldn't concentrate on anything but cleaning. I have some help, too. Chitunga is one of the cleanliness human beings I ever met and he stocks the cupboards with all times of items to keep the house perfect. "Dude," he says. "We need to keep the new house feel." Seriously, when I returned from Texas he bought a new vacuum cleaner, several brands of soaps, Pine Sol, and a whole other entourage of soaps, sprays, and wipes.
Knowing I will spend the next 48 hours in total syllabi-revamp mode, I decided the Beauty Makinta ritual is a good thing. It was Friday night and my brain was dead. I cooked a few meals for the week ahead (although the kid will eat it all by Sunday) and then went in a cleaning frenzy.
I hate it. Every now and again, it's okay, but to do it weekly. No thanks. It gets old real fast, although I appreciate it for the few hours after it is done. Actually, the three hour blitz reminded me of Carol Channing in Free To Be You and Me (the Housework skit). I found it online and post it here, Saturday, while I sit on my arse and write, edit, write, organize, write, edit, and plan. Every second I do, I'm sure the dog hair will cascade off of Glamis and I'll go back into the frustration mode.