Letting go

As part of my recent leap aboard the simplicity bandwagon I've been doing a lot of reading about recognising what you can control and what you have to be able to let go. Obviously most of it is deep and meaningful stuff, but it also brings to light some less serious aspects. On that note, I've decided I have to let go of the notion that:

A) Because I clean regularly (a recent phenomena) I will have a clean house. This reality can also be filed under Should Have Seen It Coming, given the house is now home to a toddler, a cat, two puppies and a messy Sagittarius. 

B) I can live a happy life without eating hot chips from Charleez, our town's take away joint. Best chips ever. They've ruined all other chips for me. 

C) Characters in children's programs are endearing and/or entertaining. Case in point: Mike the Knight is a pompous little prick. 

How annoying is this little upstart?
Image from www.lovedbyparents.com

D) My tastes are unique and eclectic. The new pay tv music channel, Smooth, for example, could have been lifted almost entirely from my library. Which I'm guessing makes me very mainstream and quite possibly drastically lame. 

What sort if things have you had to let go?

Wordless Wednesday - Whoops

This actually happened a while ago, on a very windy day, but the pic always makes me chuckle, so thought I'd put it up here.

Linking up with Trish from My Little Drummer Boys again for Wordless Wednesday. 

Thanks Trish!

Confessions from a dirty house

Image source:
www.dbdazedomain.wordpress.com

I have something to confess. My house is in a right state. It's never been the tidiest or cleanest of homes, but lately it's taken a turn for the much-worse. In fact, these days it probably rivals my renowned for chaos sibling's sister's place for mess (sorry Katie).
We used to clean every week. On Saturdays, like much of the population. You know how it is - work Monday-Friday, do the household chores Saturday and chill out Sunday.
But now it sometimes goes a month without so much as a squirt of Spray & Wipe. Because our routine has changed from weekly to fortnightly. Now, for both of us, it's work Wednesday to Thursday (of the following week) and do the chores and chilling on the ensuing days off (Friday to Tuesday). But for some inexplicable reason, there are times when the housework still doesn't get done on those five days.
"WHAT?! How can you have five days and STILL not get any cleaning done?" I can hear you - and my mother - shrieking.
Well, I don't know. I've often asked myself that on a Tuesday night when getting ready for work the next day and noticing the dust bunnies piling up in such numbers they could have a parliamentary debate between them. What the hell did I do with those hours that meant there was no time for a spot of vacuuming? Honestly, I've no idea. But it does mean that the housework doesn't get a look-in til the next lot of days off, taking the time between cleans close to four weeks.
Strangely, the place doesn't get as disgusting as I'd expect during that time. Well, the verandah does. Traffic from four human and eight large dog feet, and the kind of red dirt more insidious and sticky than a True Blood addiction (cough) ensures that.

My back verandah not half an hour after being swept.
And Razz, who has to be involved in everything.

Or maybe it really is grossly dirty and I just don't notice anymore. Maybe my husband's near blindness to grot and mess until it obscures his path to the beer fridge has finally rubbed off on me. Or maybe because compared to work - where we process ore, an intrinsically grimy activity - home is actually pretty clean.
Whatever the case, I reckon I can handle the occasional four-week gap between proper cleans. Just don't tell my landlord.

What's your tipping point when it comes to cleaning? The appearance of one tiny cobweb in the corner? Or do you only drag out the Jif when your parents - or inlaws - are due a visit?

I know, I can't believe I just blogged about housework either. 

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This week I'm grateful for... my age

Image source: http://www.intoxicatedabroad.com/

They say getting old is no picnic, but at the moment I'm glad I've left some aspects of youth behind.
A younger cousin of mine (she's 18) has recently started university. While she sounds to be having the time of her life, her facebook updates have reminded me of the less noteworthy experiences of being a full-time student:
* Drinking 'goon'. The lovely bottles of sav blanc I indulge in these days may come from the cheaper end of the Woolies Liquor shelf, but thankfully bear next to no resemblance to goon. I think I'd blocked the word 'goon' and it's associated memories from my mind, until this week that is, the moment I signed my first job contract.
* Having to do assignments on non-class days. I'm fortunate to have the kind of job where work is only done at work. Of course days off do involve housework, but you can get away with giving it some cursory attention and put off doing it properly almost indefinitely. Or at least until you have a rental inspection or the parents come to visit.
* Having to share with dorm or flat mates. Think kitchen pigs. Waiting for the bathroom (only to find the sink clogged with someone else's hair). Chocolate nicked from the fridge. Goon nicked from the fridge. Loud noises at all hours of the day and night. Noises you'd rather not identify coming from your housemate's room at all hours of the day and night. It's a list with no end, really.
My place is no luxurious haven, but I can keep it pretty much the way I like. The husband's attempts to get away with leaving everything from shifters to socks on the kitchen table notwithstanding.
* Not having a licence and/or not having a car. Many uni students do have both these days, of course, and this bit of gratitude is prompted by the experience of my sister-in-law who, for various bureaucratic reasons, has just got her Learners at age 21. I've always lived in regional areas where the public transport system, if it exists at all, involves a bus coming by about once every 10 days. I'm not a big fan of driving (I prefer to be chauffeured, darling) but I am a fan of being able to take off somewhere whenever I feel like it.

This post is part of the lovely 'I'm Grateful For' link-up by hosted by Maxabella Loves.



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