Tales from housework mountain

I seem to have more housework to do than ever before since the occupancy of my house increased by just one tiny member.   I have noticed since his arrival  that suddenly the washing machine is never off, the poor thing is almost constantly whirring and spinning, sometimes I wonder if I can hear it sob when I take a biscuit out of the cupboard and give it to the tiny, slimy hand waving at me.

It also seems as if the existing occupants have all decided to make much more mess than they did before.  This molting season has been INSANE, I have actual dog fur tumbleweeds that float across the room mocking me within seconds of hoovering.  I can barely see out of my living room window for nose and little hand prints.  Even the oak tree in the garden seems to have made thousands more acorns to throw at me this year.


Lovely boyfriend, who used to be a paragon of cleaning seems to have forgotten how to do simple things like rinsing a bath out after himself.   We are all tired all of the time, I think that most people just stop caring about how clean things are and go to sleep, but I can’t bear it.

What if someone comes to visit?

In truth I doubt many of my friends care if I have hoovered or polished the cooker, but I care.  Most of the people that come to visit wear their worst clothes so that they don’t get annoyed when a stream of dogs lick them and  a baby leaves big spitty splodges all over them.  However sensible that is as a plan, being the person that everyone dresses down to come and see is a bit depressing.

Especially when I spend most of my time doing bloody housework.  I sweep, hoover and steam mop the floors every morning, my baby still has black feet when he plays in his walker, how????  I know how, the fluffy family seems to see a clean floor as a challenge.  I hoover and turn around to see at least one fluffy enjoying the feeling of a freshly hoovered carpet by rolling all over it and making sure that it is good and hairy again, with a big, self satisfied, doggy smile.

I clean the bathroom, lovely boyfriend has a bath, it looks like a swamp by the time he has finished, every surface merrily festooned with some sort of beard/body hair, so many products everywhere (I do not use as many products as he does, why does he need them all?) imagine my joy that he has found a charcoal exfoliating face wash to use, that doesn’t leave any mess behind AT ALL…  Then at least one of the fluffy faces will get into the bath to sniff something or eat something.


Everywhere I go I clean up constantly, I am followed by a hoard of creatures and people that I love the best, who are determined to undo it all in seconds.

The thing that I realise whilst typing and having a bit of a moan is that although these things annoy me on a daily basis, I wouldn’t be without a single one of the mess makers.  I love my messy family and my hairy house.

Housework is tedious, but my family is awesome and I wouldn’t have to do so much housework if I didn’t have my family.  So I shall soldier on up housework mountain.  Must go, the washing needs hanging out and it looks like it’s time to hoover, again.


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