one hour

I’m a terrible housekeeper. I admit it. Not proudly. But I’ve never really, really tried to change.

Tonight I cleaned for one hour, starting as soon as I put Mary to bed. I set the timer on the oven, and just started doing whatever: a load of clothes, the dishes, swept the floor, picked up random items all over the place, put away laundry, etc.

I really need to keep this up. At least on the nights Mark works. So four nights a week, I can surely devote one hour of alone time to working on the house, right?

And on the days we’re both around a little more, we should make an effort to get stuff done. Even if that means one of us keeps Mary happily playing while the other scrubs a toilet….

 

I sure hope so.

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About maggie

thirty-something. working on life.
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