Barbara J. Hamby

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When is the Maid Coming?

It seems to me I used to whip through a whole house in an hour or so and have everything neat and tidy. Now I can’t even get one room done in that time. Of course, it would help if I got rid of more stuff. That is happening ? slowly. I’m trying not to be discouraged by my increasing slowness and also trying to lower my standards. The magnet on the refrigerator reflects the attitude I wish I could embrace: “To Hell with Housework.”

My computer is in a corner of my bedroom and, if the bed’s made, I can’t see much else, so clutter gets ignored. I guess I can use the excuses of age and aching feet. Right now I’m trying to get used to wearing rigid orthotic inserts in my clunky orthopedic shoes. I was able to tough it out for two hours yesterday and two and a half hours today. I would not like to try for three, but I probably will.

That nasty little Microsoft Word paperclip is drawing wavy red and green lines under my words and sentences. I guess I’d better put out a contract on him. I’m sure there’s a way to do him in.