The laptop might be the single greatest invention of all time outside of dishwashers and ceramic hair straighteners.
I have moved out to my porch these days, armed with a beverage of choice, glasses (yes, I'm on that side of 40) and a stout Dell to read, post, enjoy the breeze and read some more. I have to tell you that few things are as disappointing as reaching the end of my GoogleReader.
More importantly, I am successfully avoiding the pile of clothes that gets moved from floor to bed to floor again in a daily routine. The dishwasher that may or may not be full of clean dishes. The sink that is full of definitely not clean items awaiting that bit of reconnaissance. I won't detail the bathroom, as it could risk an impromptu visit from the health department.
I hate housework and its meaningless, repetitive, never-get-aheadness. I will never match my mother's ability to maintain a house that would be ready at a moment's notice for a Southern Living photo shoot. I care enough about that only for sporadic guilt, not real action.
I, instead, console myself that I have Other Interests that some day will pay off with fame, fortune and the ability to hire someone with better skills than I.
Back me up, brothers and sisters.
You can hire me! I'll gladly ignore the mess in my house to deal with the mess in yours ... wait a minute. That sounds like our employer ...
Posted by: Marsha Guerard | October 07, 2008 at 06:54 PM
I'm with you, my life changed with a laptop and wireless network. I stopped reading, cooking and cleaning. Click, click, click.....
Love your new home, xarkGirl!
Posted by: joan | October 07, 2008 at 11:31 PM
oh boy, I knew I was gonna love this little garden in infosphere..
Yay! to screwing housework! I hate it. I hate it is still used a a yardstick of people (women's) worthiness.
Mops brooms (even Swiffers..though I don't have one.. ) might as well come with whips attached..
I specifically hate that when my parents (infrequently, thank Jesus) come by, they feel they can COMMENT on the state of my house! I am 4#@$#@$# years old, for chrissakes. I have an older brother who could compete with that hoarder that Oprah famously took months to help and never a word is said to him..
Wow. You have really touched a nerve with me, and I just got started reading.
Posted by: ncwatterson | October 11, 2008 at 07:53 PM
No kidding. I still remember with ridiculous clarity the moment I told my mom, who was taking me to tasl for the state of my linen closet. I told her my standards were different from hers and we could argue about it every time she came to visit or we could skip it.
It was horrible, I made her tear up, because she was only trying to help. But it was an important moment in which I was able to let go of my resentment and move to a better place with her.
She might be the best housekeeper ever. Tough shoes to fill.
Posted by: xarkGirl | October 12, 2008 at 12:14 PM
It's pretty easy to discern my state of mind / activity level based on the house. I grew up in household where my mother suffered (unknowingly) from depression and my father is a hoarder. I don't function well in a messy / disordered state, it reminds me too much of how I grew up. So if you come over and nothing is done, it's probably time to say, "Heather, let's go have a beer and talk."
Posted by: Heather | October 13, 2008 at 09:33 AM