I’ve finally decided to go ahead and do something I’ve been wanting to do for many years. It’s my gift to me – four hours of housecleaning services once a month.

I have known Carolina for a few years now. She is a wonderful woman, a legal Mexican immigrant – and she helps me keep up on my Spanish. Her son went through Acute Childhood Leukemia treatment last year, and we compared notes on treatments and such.

I picked her up this morning. My kitchen, living room, and tv room are already spotless – including the constantly oily burners and the inside of the oven and microwave! Yeah, she does floors too.

I am feeling totally wiped today, and this is a luxury even better than getting my hair done (which I haven’t done for… uh… a while).

I soooo hate housework. I’m really a terrible housewife.

I hate the whole thing. I don’t mind laundry and vacuuming and dusting, but the thought of being on my knees scrubbing the textured old linoleum in the kitchen, or trying to get the calcium and lime deposits off the shower, fills me with despair. When I force myself to do it, I work and work all day, and nothing looks very different when I’m done. Then I’m sore for two days, and I usually get sick.

Although it is disconcerting to realize that Carolina gets a bit more per hour than I do at this point, it is well worth the investment. She’s even giving me a special price since I am flexible with the time and will pick her up and drop her off.

Ahhhhh. Clean house…. so nice.