I think that if you asked any woman, especially the housewife or “housewoman” what a beast of burden is, there is a very good chance that she would say the house. I buckled down and did housework, don’t worry not too much, just enough. Just enough to reinforce every reason why I hate it so, in my mind. I never used to hate it, not like I do now. Maybe it has been too many years of doing the same chores all the time, with it never ever being done for good or appreciated. For the past year I have been thinking, especially when I am vacuuming, if the house is perhaps too big. I am not going to get any younger, I’m only going to get older and if I hate cleaning this much now, than what is it going to be like in five years? I do love my house though, it is cozy and comfortable and no matter how many people are here, you never feel crowded.
I love my garden as well and I do not hate gardening in any way whatsoever. I never care how exhausting it is, nor how dirty I get, there is something about gardening that is so satisfying and it never feels monotonous or boring. I suppose if I had the proper mindset when it came to housecleaning, in the same fashion as I have with gardening than housework wouldn’t be so vile. Who am I kidding? I will never be able to convince my brain to see vacuuming, dusting, dishes, cleaning the bathroom and laundry and everything else in the same vein as I view gardening.
I love my house, I really do but I have to figure something out about my souring attitude towards housework. It kind of stinks to not enjoy taking care of your own house. There I am through complaining, I don’t have to do it tomorrow because I am going to pick my hubby from the airport with my son. The hubby is coming home from Algeria, hooray.