Despite the best of intentions this weekend, I just couldn’t bring myself to do any more than the requisite cosmetic once over on the house.
What’s the cosmetic once over, you ask? Oh honestly, need you?
The cosmetic once over the the ‘neatening’ of the house that ensures aesthetic pleasing to the eyeball. In my crappy, dust-filled apartment, this means anywhere that is in my line of vision when I am in the kitchen, watching telly or in my room. Which meant, clearing three weeks’ worth of mail off the dining table, not to mention a week’s worth of soiled clothes from the Sprog’s ongoing ‘accidents’ at daycare.
I’ve previously said it – I am a domestic antichrist. Add my aversion to cleaning (to be fair, I do work full time which has been NUTS lately, and Mr Moi is often away for a couple of nights at a time on bizzo, which if nothing else, totally gives me an appreciation for single mums. Single mums are SUPER MUMS. They ROCK) and my inherent laziness, and we have right there a recipe for an abode that can turn into a bomb site really really quickly.
My apartment is not beautiful. It was built about 12 years ago, and it is located in Darwin, NT. To my horror when I moved here I quickly discovered that Darwinites have about as much of an eye for design as Ukrainians – i.e. they design with their eyes closed.
Our apartment has white tiles throughout the living areas, with DARK GROUT. YUK. (Oh how I long for polished floorboards, or some old euro-style parquetry). The apartment is built on this weird diagonal line, so despite being open plan, I can’t sit at the table and watch telly. I can’t cook in the kitchen and see the table or watch telly. I can’t watch telly and see the table. The table is really out of the action, which means I can’t deposit the Sprog there to do little activities because she’s too far away from the action.
So, that’s just the tip of the iceberg about my horrid apartment. Which I have tried to pretty up and add character to, by pulling out our rugs from Morocco, our fabric from Laos, our glassware from Turkey, not to mention adorning the walls with beautiful Ukrainian images by the talented Olya Pryymak. (As an aside, she creates the most amazing paintings of her life in London).
Basically, it’s ugly on the inside, filled with dust from constant construction and roadworks, nests of spiders and cockroaches thanks to life in the tropics, and voila!… I am totally apathetic about cleaning it.
This weekend my aim was to do the cosmetic once over, then clean the bathrooms. I didn’t even add floors into that equation. Alas, the bathrooms remain uncleaned. There is a pile of wet washing next to the line just taunting me. And the first thing I am doing at work today is searching for cleaners in the Yellow Pages.
I keep telling myself I’ll be bothered when I move into an 80 year old, character filled worker’s cottage in Brisbane…. Yeah… One day.
Are you a blogger without a broom? Do you like the place where you live? How do you keep it looking spic and span? How did you add character?… Ideas welcome!