And kids of just about every household were required to pitch in and help our mothers, each of us given specific chores...clean every inch of woodwork, sweep every corner, dust every stick of furniture, scrub windows, et cetera, ad infinitum...(if you must know the truth, we were more like little indentured servants.)
As much as I loved helping my mother because it made me feel 'grown up,' I grew to hate the exercise in futility that is house cleaning. And I still hate it now. So much time expended on tidying up one's living quarters when, the very moment you're finished, more dust and dirt accumulates. It's a losing battle, just like laundry. Ever notice the very second after the laundry is done, you remove your ratty cleaning clothes and, voila, more laundry is waiting for you? It ain't fair!
I've always been of the opinion that one major cleaning job should last about, oh, I don't know, maybe six months or so? I'd even settle for six weeks. But NO, if you're lucky, you can get away with one week, tops. And then the dreary routine begins all over again, usurping hours upon hours of our lives.
The very thought of engaging outside help was sacrilegious. "Oh no, they never clean like we do!!" Which may (or may not) be true, but WHO CARES?? So three specks of dust are left on the woodwork, the windows may have a streak or two, a few dust tumbleweeds may have escaped to the far corners of the living room, so what?
I've been living on my own for more decades than I care to remember, and have yet to break the old once-a-week cleaning schedule. I guess those early years did instill 'good habits' that allow us to live in relative cleanliness. And a skeevy home just doesn't cut it. After all, as my mother always told me, "cleanliness is next to godliness."
Now there's a thought ~ what if God made an unannounced visit? Does anyone really believe he'd spend his time inspecting woodwork and counting wayward specks of dust?? I think not!
