I am not a ‘domestic goddess’ as Roseanne used to say in her stand up routines in the 1980s. I don’t like doing domestic chores. But I’m pretty fanatical about having a clean and orderly apartment. I hate to clean but I want it clean. I guess hope springs eternal, and I wake up every day thinking that a horde of cobbler’s elves have arrived and done the tasks overnight. It hasn’t happened yet.
So Saturdays are usually in one form or another a day when I clean up. The ladies around here are really cleaning kind of women. Their homes are always spotless. I mean even behind the toilet, the baseboards are clean. The back edge of the highest kitchen cupboard is clean. They clean. I don’t.
I vacuum, dust, do the laundry, clean the kitchen and put everything in order. Occasionally I wash the couch afghans and the throws, and once in a while I run a Lysol wipe over the windowsills and baseboards. I should take the curtains down and wash them, but though I think about it often, I don’t. On that score I have a reason: they are high and I have no ladder, not even a step ladder. Last time I put up curtains I stood on rickety chairs and wobbly hassocks, and that’s dangerous to do when you live alone.
Yesterday I went all out and did the above, except not the curtains. I did vacuum the ceiling fan. So here are a few photos of domestic Saturday.