Wednesday, March 26, 2014

I Can Take Care of Myself...But Sometimes I Don't Want To

I hate cleaning.

Hate it. I hate it so much that every 3 months, I get a new apartment to avoid having to do any real cleaning. You all think that I keep moving because of work or because of apartment floods or because of shitty management, but no...I move this often because I prefer packing, unpacking, and organizing, to scrubbing toilets or removing hair from the shower drain.


The thing about me and cleaning is, I have a legit case of OCD, thanks to my dad and his genetic makeup. So while all of the tips out there are like, telling me to clean 15 minutes a day to always have a clean house, that shit just does not work for me. I'm an all or nothing type lady. If I start to clean, I can't sit, sleep, eat, or pee until I'm done. So for me, a deep clean really does take an entire day...there's laundry, bathrooms, vacuuming cat hair...and then because of how weird I am, there is also organizing the closet, alphabetizing soup cans in the pantry, and rearranging my living room furniture.

I try to be fairly responsible with my money now that I'm old, and I try to make better financial choices. I know that I need to keep contributing to a 401k, whatever that is, and I make sure I have some emergency savings money before I pay for another tattoo. But there are some things that are worth every penny. And for me, that is a house cleaner.

I'll wait for all you judgy bitches to shut up.

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Ok. Yes I said it. I believe that paying someone to clean my house is worth it. And by house, I do mean apartment. Small apartment. That I live alone in. I don't care. I know it's all my mess, and all my dust, and I know that all the hair on the bathroom floor came out of my head (in other news, how I am not bald with all of that falling out of my head, I will never know). I don't care. I simply don't have time to do it myself.


762 square feet is a lot of dusting. It's a lot of vacuuming. It's a lot of work that I have no desire to do. Scrub baseboards? No! Dust windowsills? Nah, I'm good.

I have been told that I have no idea what I am talking about because I live in a teeny place, all alone, with no husband and no kids, and no muddy-pawed dog to clean up after. And that's true. I don't have those things. But I do have a cat that sheds almost as much as I do. And I do have a full time, demanding job that often exhausts me more emotionally than anything else. And really, more than anything else, I just don't think anyone should spend an entire day doing anything that they hate as much as I hate to deep clean.

Truth be told, I want nothing to do with cleaning. I don't mind doing my own laundry, and I will organize the shit out of any closet ever, but when it comes to a deep clean, I am just not interested. BUT, I want a clean apartment. I don't like Juno fur collecting in corners or toothpaste in the sink. But I also don't hate it enough to scrub it on the weekend. The weekend is my time, and on my time, I don't clean up messes. I clean up messes 40-50 hours a week; it's what I get paid to do, clean up after people who can't take care of their own lives.

And so, a house cleaner for $20 an hour once a month. WORTH IT.


I may not get my hair cut and colored on a regular basis because I don't have fifty bucks, and I may not get my toes done as often as I'd like...but now that I've found someone I trust to do good work and not steal from me, you better believe this will be my splurge.

So when you come visit me, please know two things: One, I organized my own book shelf, by height, thickness, genre, and alphabetical order by author. And Two, I didn't dust that shit myself.