Recovery

The latest Facebook meme in my lovely circle of friends:

We had company over for dinner yesterday. Both are couples with one son, one family has a 7-year-old, the other a 15-month-old. The plan was to order pizza, for me to make a few pies, and to keep it simple.

I made some gorgeous pies on Sunday. I spent nine hours…nine…trying to both clean and re-clean and tend to children yesterday.

And the house was back to its usual mess this morning.

We don’t have clutter. We don’t have extraneous things. We just have five people and the sheddingest dog living in this house…two adults who work from home. Two toddlers who do try to clean up after themselves, but don’t always succeed, and a mama who’s read Flylady and other cleaning systems too much. The premise is always the same: 15 minutes a day will do it!

I say bullshit.

By the time that 15 minutes is up, there are new and exciting messes to clean up! Sippy Cups! Breakfast dishes! Dog fuzz! More dog fuzz! Lunches to make! Diapers to change! Baby blarp to wipe up off the floor! Laundry! Laundry! Laundry!

The other principle is that apparently, if you keep the house free from clutter, other members of the family will also eventually help, if you don’t nag. I haven’t nagged in six years. I have been keeping the house as clear as possible.

Apparently this just provides more surface area for random shoes, dishes, mail, keys, wallets, phones, books, dog fuzz.

Tomorrow — more on the pies. Fuzz free!

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