Yesterday, the Boy took M to visit his parents, giving me a free day. All day Saturday, I planned for my big day. They'd be gone for 9 hours -- that would leave me time to pack for our vacation this week, run some errands, maybe spend some quality time at the library or the bookstore, choosing reading material for the trip. And then I'd stop for ice cream on the way home, and for once I wouldn't have to share with a slobbery toddler or let it melt while I chased said toddler around the room.
As planned, they were gone for nine hours. And what did I do for that entire nine hours? Housework. I cleaned the house from top to bottom. I scrubbed showers and dusted baseboards. I ran five loads of laundry and folded seven (I have this awful habit of leaving clean clothes in the laundry basket and never actually folding, so I had a backlog). I sorted and I dusted and I vacuumed and I bleached M's toys (lest you think I'm some kind of germaphobe freak, I only bleached the toys that were in the tub when an Unfortunate Incident occurred. Use your imaginations). When the Boy got home at 9 pm, I was still going strong, in the midst of packing me and M for the trip (the boy can pack himself. I'm his wife, not his valet).
So here I am in this really nice, clean house, and it's wonderful. I want to invite everyone I know over, just because I can. Usually, I can't manage the spur-of-the-moment invitation. I need a good hour's lead time to scrape the macaroni off the floor and to stuff the 4 metric tons of clutter that usually decorates this place into a closet. Other moms I know claims similar housekeeping failings, but I find it so hard to believe. Their houses always look so nice. When I have guests, there's always the telltale scent of cleanser to remind people that mere moments before they knocked, I was frantically scrubbing the sink. When I visit other people, there's never even a stray piece of junk mail out of place, and the house doesn't smell like Clorox.
But I digress. The point is, my house is clean at the moment. Now I just have to figure out how to keep it that way. I figure that our being away for a week will be a good start.
(and if you're a potential robber reading this post and salivating over the thought of a nice, clean empty house to pillage, I should tell you that we'll be leaving our attack dog, Chompers, behind. And sometimes we forget to feed him. Don't say I didn't warn you.)