TUESDAYS, OR, THE HALF-ASSED HOUSEKEEPER

A messy home is a creative threat. 


For most of my life, I would have vehemently disagreed. I have always been, to put it gently, an unconcerned housekeeper.


Now, on Tuesdays, I am a crappy maid.  

First order of business: the trash.

I wake half-panicked, knowing garbage and recycling must be at the curb no later than 8. At 7, mostly asleep in a ratty tank top and crazy-pattern pants (today, turquoise with yellow polka dots), I grab a new trash bag and empty the three garbage pails in the basement; then, I stagger upstairs for the bins in my office, bedroom, bathrooms and laundry room. I take the usually-smelly kitchen trash bag from under the sink, remove the refrigerator's dead leftovers and carry the bags to the big outdoor trash can in the garage. I collect newspapers, bottles and cans for the recycling bin. I race around the damp morning yard grabbing dog poop. Finally, I roll it all down to the curb. 


The dogs and I listen for the rumbly, scary truck. When it comes, we hide. 

After the trash drama, we move on to getting the dishwasher packed, a load of laundry spinning. I never skip my morning latte. I sip, enamored for at least an hour in all manner of truly-not-fascinating-yet-somehow-extraordinarily-fascinating things online. 


Eventually, I start doing the real housework. First: unclutter and put stuff away. That means dishes, purchases, (eyeshadow and three bottles of nail polish on kitchen table for three days, a box of paperclips for six) magazines, dog toys. I meander through the house, daydream out the streaky windows, hang up coats, collect mail, try on scarves, check Facebook. My eventual goal: all surfaces and floors cleared for phase two. 


Phase Two: surfaces. There are two types: wet and dry. "Wet" surfaces are cleaned with a liquid; "dry" surfaces, without. I attack the kitchen and bathrooms with all-purpose cleaner and paper towels. I am destroying the Earth with my paper-towel usage. I spray, spray, spray, wipe, wipe, wipe, destroy, destroy, destroy. 


Dry surfaces need dusting. I use a green battery-operated duster which spins loudly and redistributes dust. I pretend not to notice. 

Because I have dogs, I de-hair the upholstered furniture in the living room. My Pledge Fabric Sweeper goes swish, swish, swish, clogging immediately. Bandit, my Springer Spaniel,grudgingly lumbers to the other side of the sofa when I get to his spot. Swiffer Swiffer Swiffer the floors. Stop for an unhealthy snack. Did I get any email? Take a look. Dustbust the mythic dustbunnies. Wonder how dogs aren't bald; ponder if hair removal constitutes cruelty. 


Lady, my Cocker Spaniel, is never braver than when she barks at and runs from the vacuum.  

Finally, I pretend I’m done.