OK. This is it. I have to start doing some serious housework. The summer is behind me, I have all the groceries I need, visited my aunt yesterday and I’ve been resting so much I cannot rest anymore.
I wish I had a better motive to motivate me. If someone was coming to visit me I would get into a frenzy of housework so I’m pretending someone else is going to look at my place. If they were just coming for a coffee and maybe go to the bathroom that would be fine as I keep the basic living triangle tidy; couch/kitchen/bathroom, but clutter is forming around the edges, my hidden office is a mess and my bedroom has the faint odour of old lady.
All summer I let it go somewhat because I have the good excuse of working so much. Now I don’t. My motive has to be ‘for me’.
That’s a concept that is new and bewildering to woman as they get older. So used to doing things for someone else and now faced with doing it for the one who means the least; our self. Ten years ago I found myself in the position of having ONLY myself to look after.
We certainly were not raised to think of ourselves. I was raised is if thinking of yourself was selfish, almost a sin. There were no ‘me days’ or ‘down time’, you just took the next number for who needed help: it was never you.
Years ago, when I was still trying to have kids, I didn’t do any Christmas decorating because we didn’t have kids. And because we didn’t have kids, we went somewhere else for Christmas. One year it dawned on me that I could decorate for myself, for my own pleasure.
Housework isn’t as fun as Christmas decorating. It’s for myself, yeah, but I don’t really care. My triangle is tidy. The hallway looks really clean……. stop…
Motive….. my motive is to have a clean organized home for myself…… like the way I thought it would be if I was single…… before I was single.