Domestic Goddess

Sometimes, even I am fooled by just how ‘well’ I look. I find it very easy to forget about my limitations, perhaps because I refuse to accept that I have any. Things have been tough at home lately – the unthinkable has happened – our dishwasher broke, and so my husband has reverted to living in the kitchen in a valiant effort to keep on top of the never-ending pile of washing up. With a husband living in the kitchen and 3 children running amok and turning our home into a messy grime infested stink hole, I decided to start the month of February with a renewed sense of purpose. I was to become a Domestic Goddess.

I made a mental list of the things that needed doing: Load the washing machine, wash & dry the dishes, clean the kitchen, vacuum the entire house, polish the entire house, clean the bathrooms, clean under the beds, change the duvets, do the ironing, clean the windows – inside and out, wash and vacuum the cars and make a pie for tea.

Dragging the laundry basket down the stairs I set about separating the whites and darks and deciding which pile to wash – dark it is. Clothes in, basket returned upstairs, back down the stairs I merrily start the water running ready to wash up – 2 cups down, whew – I need a sit down, no, no, no, I can DO this and I proceed to wash up everything in sight, except that saucepan, it looks a bit too mucky, that one can wait… right, time for a quick sit down. My eyes and legs are feeling fuzzy so I rest for a moment hoping that it will pass. As I sit there my peace is shattered by an incredible din coming from the washing machine. I heave myself up to take a look. The clothes are spinning around at a tremendous speed but the drum sounds as though it has come loose and may actually take off. Urgh. While I’m in the kitchen I may as well get the vacuum cleaner out. Now, with the almighty noise emanating from both the washer and the vacuum I use the opportunity to belt out a song, Abba’s ‘Happy New Year’ has been whirring in my head since it popped up on my ipod, ‘Happy New Year’ it is, and why not, seeing as I have technically begun my new year’s resolution to be a Domestic Goddess this very day. The singing gives me renewed energy and I think I may as well lug the vacuum cleaner upstairs while I’ve got it out. I quickly wave the hose around the ceiling as though it were a feather duster – woah – dizzy spell. I sit down on my bed, head spinning, legs and arms aching, Abba’s profound lyrics still finding their way out of my now slurring mouth. Perhaps a lie-down would be better.

A quick glance at my bedside clock reveals that I have had enough rest to last the entire week. I leap up slowly and gently and have a good stretch. The vacuum is still lying across the floor, its lead snaking its way round to an unseen source, bah, I’ll put it away later. Time to check on the washing. I enter the kitchen to find it flooded. Oh man! Back upstairs I pull everything out of the airing cupboard in an effort to find an unwanted towel that I can use to mop up the mess. Aha, found one. Back downstairs I dry the floor and tentatively open the washing machine door. Pulling the clothes out I discover that bits of brittle plastic / rubber have inexplicably appeared from somewhere within, sticking to all the socks and pants and to make matters worse the clothes seem to have been washed with a tissue…

It’s going to take A LOT of energy to hang the clothes up to dry, especially now that each item will need a severe shake to rid them of the white strands of plastic and tissue. That can wait, I decide. I think I’ll just have another sit down. I mull over all the unfinished things on my ‘list’. I don’t suppose it’ll get done now.

Domestic Goddess? That’s me.