Every Sunday since we put our house up for sale, I rush home from Mass and start cleaning like a crazy woman. Every Sunday we seem to get a steady stream of people (well, maybe not steady, but a stream none the less) that come through our house. We are hoping they buy, but they are probably just our neighbors from across town who are nosey.
Anyway, I would love to clean this house on a Friday or a Saturday and have it STAY clean for our Sunday-potential buyers-but probably just snoopers-but that would be impossible. It is impossible because of all of the little people that reside in this home. I walk out of a perfectly clean room only to walk back in and see papers, crayon wrappers, socks, Polly Pocket pants, army men, notebooks with entries like "100 reason why I loathe my mother," and even strewn underpants and empty beer bottles. How does this happen?
So, as I was saying, on Sunday I rush home to clean. By Sunday night I am pulling my hair out because I look around and it is a mess again.
I finally figured out why...
I am not really cleaning. I am doing the "just stuff the junk in any spare drawer, closet, corner, even the empty soup tureen" dance with destruction.
Moving has done this to me. The military has made me a world class junk hider. My children have made me... well, fat... but that is another post. And the potential buyers who are probably just snoopers have made me a pack rat!
I can't wait until we sell this house so I can go back to having all of my junk out where I don't have to be ashamed. It is exhausting putting on this facade of living in a home that is always clean-and you too can live in a constantly clean home IF YOU JUST BUY MINE!!!
I can't wait until Monday.