Earlier this week I received a phone call from my best Ukrainian bud (she’s not Ukrainian, rather, we were the best of miserable, complaining companions in Ukraine), Mind the Gap. Now living in Germany, she is visiting the land of Oz later this month for the first time ever, and alas we won’t meet because of my impending sproggy state.
However, one of the things we briefly reflected on was how we both managed to never get anything done when we were in Kyiv, despite not working full time and not working in offfice-based jobs.
Yes, the drudgery of living in Ukraine made us both lethargic, lazy, lackadasical, and many other words beginning with L, I’m sure. I just can’t think of any.
In fact, life in Ukraine was so hard that I can remember absolutely begging Mr Moi for us to get a cleaner, because in the week of nothingness that I did exist through, I just couldn’t muster the energy or enthusiasm to clean our one-bedroom, 52-square metre apartment.
(Truly. Seriously. I think I had a mixture of SAD, homesickness and general inertia.)
And so this brings me around to my latest domestic outsourcing venture – Nesting.
On Thursday I had the cleaner in clearing dust and cobwebs from every nook and cranny in the house. Yesterday, I had a carpet cleaner in to clean the carpets. Today I’ve tasked my mother to do lots of washing of baby stuff – pram and capsule liners, baby linen etc.
There’s nothing better than standing around and giving out orders.
Yes, my nesting instict has kicked in. Surely it doesn’t matter if I’m not the one doing it?