Yesterday, for the first time in years, I came home to a clean-smelling house. Not that our house usually smells bad or that it is filthy, but it was beautifully clean and I did not do the work. I paid a professional to do it well.
My cleaning is usually in bits and pieces. Something looks dusty; I take a cloth to it. The floor has spots on it; I mop it (and now swiffer it!) But it is never all clean at once and I always feel like I don't do it well.
So even though I am retired and not working for money, I decided to hire a cleaning person. My neighbor recommended hers and knew that she was willing to have more clients. So I am helping her out and helping the economy, right?
There is a bit of guilt in all of this. I made sure that I was not going to be home while she was working so hard in our house. And I do still have to clean the less used upstairs and basement.
And there was some stress in that I was determined to pick up all the piles of stuff on the floor and to hide any personal items in closets. And I had to get going earlier than usual in order to eat, be dressed, and empty the dishwasher before she arrived. Jim referred to this as the "tyranny" of the house-cleaner!
But there is also joy--the joy of coming home, opening the door, and smelling that lovely, fresh aroma of a clean house.