So everyone who knows me knows that I don’t enjoy housekeeping duties. Really who does? I mean, if I didn’t have a full time job, maybe I could get into laundry and dishes and dusting now and again…. Nah, not even then.
Which brings me to a brilliant find on my part.
My oldest daughter had her first date last night. Homecoming, a definite first date to remember. The boy insisted on picking her up at our house *bonus points to said boy*.
I fully intended to clean up the main living area so it was presentable when said date showed up that afternoon. Lo and behold, ten am while I was
holding the couch down strategically planning my assault on dirt a bleary eyed, seventeen year old stumbled down the stairs and started vacuuming.
I watched, fascinated, as someone besides myself started cleaning the house. It was a magical sight. Then the guilt crept in. So I started attacking all the papers/magazines/dishes that had piled up the last few days. Together, we tackled the unsightly host of toys and shit laying around the house. And now it is beautiful. Clean and smelling good. And all it took was a date. Now I have to figure out how to get dates for my other children. And husband.