It’s a strange Saturday. My stepson isn’t here because of a birthday sleepover, and my husband had to go into work this morning. I’m not usually left to my own devices on a Saturday morning, so I normally go for a quick run, take a shower, and spend the afternoon running errands or going to the park with the family.
Having the house to myself this morning meant I glued myself to the couch and caught up on my Dateline recordings. At one point I got up to refill my coffee and realized: my kitchen table is a disaster zone.
I tried to ignore it. Damn it, this was going to be a lazy morning! The TV is allllll mine. I’m still wearing my glasses and my pajamas, and if I feel like spending half the day playing Hungry Cat Mahjong, no one is here to judge me. (If my husband would play even one level of that stupid game, I’m sure he’d understand. He’d have to.)
Anyway, the fourth or fifth time I went into the kitchen, I finally cracked. I can’t remember the last time I cleaned off my kitchen table. We eat dinner at the table every night, and all I do is push everything off to the side to make room for our plates. Something had to be done.
I started to clear off the table and almost immediately I felt better about my life. Until I discovered the table is covered in a blanket of dust and pet hair, and then my contentment crumbled yet again.
I’m not exaggerating when I say it took me half an hour to clean up the kitchen table disaster zone. It looks like a quick job until you consider the stack of old mail that has to be sorted and the fact that every little item seems to belong in a different room in the house.
But here’s what I determined: tidying up the kitchen table makes the entire house seem cleaner. A few nights ago, I went on one of my random cleaning rampages and still felt like the house was a pigsty. I couldn’t figure out why. One of the few things I hadn’t done that night was give any consideration to the kitchen table. Somehow it seems to fade into the background and I don’t give much thought to how cluttered with junk it becomes.
Right now I feel so much more comfortable than I did a couple of hours ago. Now the challenge will be resisting the temptation to resume using it as a dumping grounds for anything we’re too lazy to actually put away where it belongs.
Personally, I give it five hours max. What can I say? I’m a realist. I’ll just enjoy it while it lasts.
What types of “little” things do you do around the house to help it seem cleaner?