30 January 2014

Because paying someone else to scrub my bathtub has proven to be the most immeasurably satisfying way to spend my money in the history of ever.



First let’s hark back to a time (less than a month ago) when I was working 9/10/11/12/13+ hour days, and commuting an hour (minimum) each way for that privilege. I wasn’t home very often.
My house was poorly tended.
These are all changes I made during my BAD JOB PHASE, and while now I’m getting home at a decent hour and maybe COULD tackle these problems myself, I don’t want to. I prefer outsourcing thankyouverymuch.

One evening I was moping to my mother about I HATE MY HOUSE I HATE MY LIFE. My least favorite chore is (and always has been) DISHES. I was talking about how I can’t bring myself to cook because I’m so tired and the thought of cleaning up afterward is so deeply unappealing that let’s all have cheerios for dinner and try to make it through another 24 hours. All these jazzy solutions where I COOK AND YOU CLEAN are great. Except I live alone (with my second grader) and I was getting home at 8pm on an early night, and the aforementioned second grader needed to be hustled pretty much immediately into bed.
My mother, bless her, told me to double Gabriel’s allowance (from $1/week to $2/week) and make anything and everything having to do with dishes his job (in addition to his regular chores).
Game. Changer.
I am so DELIGHTED to pay just ONE AMERICAN DOLLAR for the joy of never touching a dish.
Gabriel is DELIGHTED to get not ONE but TWO AMERICAN DOLLARS every week for his allowance, which is on the high end of the second grade allowance scale.
I’ve been cooking a bit more.

Once I realized how much stress was alleviated by removing dishes from the programme, I started looking for a housekeeper in earnest. This involved tapping all the local people I know who seem successful enough to pay someone else to clean for them and asking EXCUSE ME WHO CLEANS FOR YOU?
One of those people recommended her housekeeper WITH WHOM YOU CAN COMMUNICATE VIA TEXT which was pretty much an enormous selling point of not having to operate a telephone and speak to a stranger.
Anyhow.
Every other Friday a nice gentleman named Armando and his mother Rosa clean my house for me, because I pay them to come every other Friday and clean my house for me.
It. Is. Amazing.
They clean better and deeper than I ever will, and the whole thing has allowed me to actually organize some of my deeply disorganized areas (closets), because I’m no longer focused on the basic things I need to do in order not to live in filth.
Who wants to work all day and then come home and work until they go to bed and then wake up the next morning and work all day?
Nobody.
Nobody wants to do that.
And I’m the only adult in my house, and it’s just NO FAIR that I have to do two persons worth of adulting.
I hate that!
And while I recognize that not everyone can afford housekeeping, fuck it.
I’m not sorry.
I *can* afford it (I’ve worked really fucking hard to be able to afford it), and even if I couldn’t, at this point I would cut an ARRAY of other activities before I cut into my housekeeping budget.
I am so much happier and more relaxed.
I have time in the evenings to play with Gabriel or read a book or take an extended bubble bath.
It’s dreamy and magical and fills me with delight.
Also my cleaning day always falls on the Friday after my Thursday payday, so it’s basically the best day ever. I have gotten paid, and I come home to a clean house with fluffed pillows and last week there were even flowers on my table and if you can afford to pay someone to do the things you hate doing, I recommend taking that action.
I recommend it muchly.

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