Once a month–since I started trying to wrestle my thyroid disease into submission while writing, homeschooling and taking care of my mom’s stuff–we have a very nice lady come help me give most of the house a thorough cleaning.
I say “most” because there are rooms in the house that even I don’t want to clean.
She’s coming this week.
And, as is now our custom, I’m frantically trying to get the house cleaned up. It torques me, y’all. But I clean it. Or at least I make it look cleaner.
All so that she can clean it for real in a couple of days.
I feel safe sharing this tidbit because pretty much every other person I know that has a cleaning lady does the exact same thing. As if cleaning my nasty kitchen floor she’s going to think better of me because I’ve taken out the trash and run the vacuum.
Anyway, that’s the set up for this little scene here at home tonight–and why I broke down and joined the “Keep Calm” meme at long last.
Tater [frustrated yet still cheerful about Sunday night clean-up]: “Momo, workin’ for you is like workin’ for the ant queen!”
Me [chuckling]: “Your sense of humor does seem to get you through things.”
Tater: “It’s my secret weapon… LAUGHTER!”
It is his secret weapon, and my great delight.
Would that we could bottle it, and give that bottle a spray pump.
The whole world might look and feel fresher for it.