Archive for the ‘Obsessive Organizing’ Category

I think I’ve mentioned a few million times that I love The Nate Berkus Show to pieces? But that, even if I’m working from home, I feel too guilty sneaking off for an hour to watch it?

Well hallelujah, it’s Xmas break, and I can do whatever I damn well please. Besides, his show – soooooooooooo freaking sadly – won’t be with us after this season wraps, so I need to get my fix in before the jig is up. Or, rather, before his gig is up.

Anyway, I think this week is mostly re-runs, so I’ve been pleasantly surprised to encounter two segments of “House Proud.” I never knew about those, and I am so smitten with the over-the-top creativity and design smarts of the HP moms I’ve watched in the last 48 hours.

One was “Jen from Wisconsin,” a mother of three boys who has an adorable blog called I Heart Organizing, and who, not-so-shockingly, has a home that’s ordered to a fare thee well. Even the refrigerator is immaculately color-coded. I was hyperventilating when I saw all that, and I’m sure she could hear me clapping in applause all the way from Joisy. Yay Jen! I heart organizing too!

Today’s segment, on “Shaunna from Alabama” was crazy-inspiring, I’m sure in large part because I utterly love her décor taste. All that distressed white furniture was completely speaking to me. Her office is beyond, tricked-out with a stunning daybed she created by chopping up the doors of her childhood home! Shaunna has a gorge blog too, and I intend to spend much Q-time combing the archives.

That is, when I’m not watching DVRd episodes of Nate. Sniff sniff, sob sob. I mean, WTH? There are all these shitty shows, that aren’t cheerful and groovy and completely dedicated to living well on a dime, and no one drives a stake through their heart.

I know, I know; it’s a business. And young Mr. Berkus will surely thrive after he leaves our living rooms. But I still wish he could continue, for maybe just the next decade or so, bringing us his special brand of double-breasted cardigan joie de vivre and his super-creative House Proud mommies.

This is when all my Nate Berkus-watching comes back to bite me in the ass.

Actually, that’s not entirely true.

For any party I’ve ever thrown – and there was many a Champs-fueled blowout at my St. Marks Place pad in the Nineties – I have worked by fingers to the bone scrubbing and zhushing right up until that first doorbell rings. And that’s when I maybe, at most, had about 900 square feet to contend with.

My post-swingle, all-grown-up dwelling is considerably bigger, and spread out on three floors. And there are two other people who share it with me, plus Thunder and Lightning, the world’s cutest Maine Coons. (Okay, so maybe they’re not literally the world’s cutest – they haven’t won any prizes or medals or anything – but they are so adorable that you just want to squish ‘em.)

So tomorrow night we’re having a fairly substantial holiday bash. And there are several people who will be seeing our home for the first time. Thus, I’m in a tizzy.

I already went into overdrive getting my office tricked-out – a new navy rug, that murky teal “accent” wall, that stunning Jodi Cobb ‘ocean off the coast of Alabama’ image I told you about. And then just this week, I decided that the new navy slipcover I bought for the loveseat needed “texture” in the form of a dark teal chenille throw I rush-ordered from Overstock.com. I’m such a nut that I spent almost as much on shipping as I did on the throw itself.

And now it’s on to the rest of the house. The Wee Lass picked out a festive Hello Kitty comforter for her bed, and I nabbed this Martha Stewart quilt at Macy’s for the bed in the master bedroom. And now I’m sort of kicking myself that I didn’t pick up the pillow shams to go with. Although I already have really great shams, expensive ones from ABC Carpet, including a pale-teal matelassé set with embroidered bees that remind me of Napoleon.

A fun fact about Momover Lady: She’s obsessed with Napoleon and Josephine. Have you guys every read those fantastic faux-ish Josephine diaries by Sandra Gulland? They are beyond beyond.

Anyway, I keep telling myself that my imaginary bestie Nate wouldn’t want the bed in my master bedroom to be too matchy-matchy, and he’d strongly urge me against running back over to Macy’s and picking up the Martha pillow shams. We’ll see if I can hold off; I’m so compulsive that it’s almost certain I will in fact be making a mid-afternoon sham run.

But first the Wee Lass and I have to make several dozen frosted Xmas cookies. They won’t be the gourmet numbers that my pal Rebecca Giles is whipping up for Cookies for Kids’ Cancer – prefab dough is involved – but they’ll be yummy nonetheless.

Alrighty, I better get moving. I need to meditate so I won’t go too too too bananas with the party-prep. After all, I’ll need to have some energy for my guests. Guests who I very much hope won’t be checking closets for dust-bunnies and tsk tsk-ing my pillow sham situation. TGIF, my lovelies.

Oops, it’s Tuesday already. I started this post last night, when it was still technically Beauty Armoire Monday, but I was falling asleep over my keypad. I kicked-off my new work schedule this week (Monday thru Wednesday in Gotham, the rest of the week Chez Momover Lady), and I’ve haven’t quite adjusted to the ramped-up pace.

Which brings us, conveniently, to my subject matter.

Knowing I needed to get beyond-organized, I went on a tear over the weekend, attacking the Sephora-level amount of war paint in my bathroom and arranging it in such a way that it’s – gasp – actually functional. And – double gasp – pleasant to use rather than slit-your-wrists frustrating.

I have to know exactly where all my maquillage is, because I’ll have approximately five seconds to cake it all on.

Sooo…I already had one small, three-tiered trunk in play for a while. And while it started out fairly tidy – divided by eyes, lips and face – it had eventually gotten topsy turvy, with a lot of dead wood that needed weeding out. Cobalt-blue eyeshadows I never wear, mascaras past their sell-by date, pencils with the tops broken off.

To up the organization ante, I brought in another small trunk – one without tiers, which I’m assuming is for bottles that need to stay upright. I decided to designate that one solely for complexion items – foundation, tinted moisturizer and concealer. Nothing else. Not even blush and bronzing powder, which are just six degrees of separation from complexion. I wanted to be a purist.

Not to mention a geek of the highest order. At least I can admit that about myself. This is the type of stuff that floats my boat; makeup so hyper-organized that complexion gets its very own trunk.

It’s not that I wear a lot of foundation. I can’t remember the last time I used a liquid formula, for instance. I’m pretty sure it was custom-blended Prescriptives, which is basically out of business. so that should tell you how long ago it was. Wait, now I’m confused – I just visited the Prescriptives website, and it says they’re “refreshing” the line for 2011, so who knows what’s up with that once-fabulous brand.

I’ve blogged many times about my abiding love for Bobbi Brown stick foundation. That’s my desert-island must-have.

But here are the complexion items in heavy rotation:

1. Philosophy Hope In a Tinted Moisturizer

2. CoverGirl & Olay Simply Ageless Foundation

3. Murad Skin Perfecting Primer | Dewy Finish

4. Yves Saint Laurent Touch Éclat

5. Laura Mercier Tinted Moisturizer SPF 20

6. Sonia Kashuk Concealer Palette

7. L’Oreal Paris Feel Naturale Light-Softening One-Step Makeup

OMG, that’s a lot of spackle. But I said “heavy rotation,” which means I rotate. And speaking of which, I need to go rotate right now and get out the door in a timely manner.

About two hours ago, Hubby peeked into my lair – my office + walk-in closet – and had a panic attack.

“What in the name of god are you doing?” he asked, eyes bugging at the mountain of stuff covering every square inch of floor space, and strewn all over my desk and couch.

“I’m finally moving my summer purses into storage,” I said. “And I need to make room for my hats, scarves and gloves.”

“Whatever,” he said. “Good luck with that.”

Guys don’t have to worry about this s–t. I think Hubby has exactly one pair of gloves and three scarves – two Burberry in different plaids, and one oversize Gucci the Wee Lass and I gifted him for his birthday last year. He’s super-preppy and always looks amazing. But he’s ruthless about “culling,” as the Brits say, which means his closet is lean and mean – all meat, no filler.

I, on the other hand, have so many purses that I need a separate storage unit in our condo building just to keep the seasons straight.

But this is where it gets even weirder: I actually use a huge number of those handbags. That’s because I switch purses almost every day.

And in the winter, I change up all my gear – hat, scarf, gloves – every single day, too. Per my coat choice du jour, of course; I have a ton of coats and jackets, and an ever-growing assortment of warm vests in faux fur and down. (Oh, btw, I wear the Uniqlo hooded number constantly. That was a really good buy. Yay.)

I know I make my life – or at least getting out the door in the morning – infinitely harder by surrounding myself with so much choice. But I really like it. I have such beautiful stuff. Lots of really schmancy items that were swagged to me in my former on-staff mag editor life. And my betrothed has been buying me one killer purse every Christmas for the last 10 years, so I really do have an awesome stash now. Amazing jewelry, too. Thank you, Hubby!

In fact, my accessories and jewelry are much better than my actual wardrobe. I was never methodical about buying “investment pieces” over the years, so the bulk of what I own, clothing-wise, isn’t great. And I always wait until I get to a crisis point with shoes and boots before I go shopping, so footwear is often a weak link in my sartorial chain too.

Now that I’ve sorted out my “winter” purses, and organized all my other gew-gaws, for the next week, I’m going to channel my inner Rachel Zoe every day and come up with a great outfit. I love watching her go gaga over all the bells and whistles – the hat, the shoes, the bijoux. She’s so into it. Think I’ll crack open her cute book right now and get some ideas. Ooh, Chapter 1: Excessories…

Because of a few plot twists, I’ve had almost eight weeks off. Off and on, that’s my new lot in life. I worked like a dog from January until July of this year, then took the rest of the summer off, then worked really hard for about six weeks again until early October, and then “rested.”

I say “rested” rather than rested, only because I’ve been working on all manner of unpaid projects. Fun stuff, future-y stuff. Stuff that doesn’t pay the bills, but also doesn’t stress me out.

Work-wise, I’ve fully embraced the Gig Economy. I have zero desire for a permanent job, one that would require me to be firing on all cylinders twelve months a year. I can fire on some of my cylinders twelve months a year, but not all of them.

So instead, I like to pretend that I’m a glamorous actress who works on a film or two a year, and then she rests. Or “rests.”

But as much as I like my new-ish sitch, there’s an itsy bitsy problem: I get rusty between gigs. And all of sudden, I need to get seriously unrusty. Next year is shaping up a lot like 2011, and I’m solidly booked from early December until late June. Which is awesome, and I’m grateful for the work in this crummy  economy.

Still, I noticed today that I have a work-related nervous tic. A good tic, I guess, but a tic all the same: I clean and organize and straighten when I’m anxious.

For instance, after I bought that gorge new desk for my office in the summer, I just threw stuff in the drawers willy nilly and left it there in a big heap. Alright, not all of it was willy nilly. But there was one nightmare drawer with approximately 10 million receipts, bank deposit slips, business cards, etc.

So when did I suddenly decide that the nightmare drawer simply had to be completely revamped? This morning, of course, after I accepted a new rush assignment.

I guess there are worse habits than organizing your way out of office-drawer chaos. And I did feel better after I took care of it. I needed to catch up on my receipt filing, and I did.

But it was so weird, and meta, to sort of observe what I was doing and put a label on it. “Oh, you’re organizing six months of receipts right now because you’re completely freaked out. And you’re completely freaked out because you know that you’re staring down a half-year of heavy labor before you can take it easy again.”

I guarantee it was all the meditation I’ve been doing that gave me that detachment, to not beat myself up and to just give myself permission to clean and organize and straighten and then get back to that rush assignment. To trust that I’ll get unrusty, and everything will be groovy. Because I know everything will be groovy.

And on that note, I’m toodling off to meditate. Night-night.

Yesterday afternoon, I moved mountains…of clutter out of my kitchen cabinets. And in so doing, I don’t think it is overstating the point to say that I’ve feng shui-d the living hell out of our entire first floor.

The back story: Since I’ve started cooking in earnest (maybe two or three times per week, but for me, that’s “in earnest”), it has come to my attention how dysfunctional and bad vibe-y my kitchen is.

It’s not a nightmare. But there were two cabinets in particular that were driving me to drink. I’ve blogged about this before, but I was getting spooked by the fact that there were several unopened wedding gifts and a fair amount of magazine editor-swag lurking within.

I needed to assess what I owned, and then make some focused, crisp decisions – per my “One Word.”

To tackle this task, I hired an organizer, who herewith will be known as Iris. I suspect Iris will become a recurring character here on Momover.net, so let’s all give her a warm welcome.

FYI, I can’t link to Iris’s website, because Iris doesn’t have a website. But if you live by me, and would like to avail yourself of her services, just email me and I’ll send you her contact info.

Okay, so OMG. Though I’d suspected as much, hiring a pro is a complete game-changer. In an hour and a half, Iris and I completed a loathsome chore – the total re-org of the “problem cabinets” – that’d been preying on my mind for months.

Here’s how we did it:

1. We pulled out every item, one by one, and put them in four designated piles: Toss; Salvation Army; Storage and Keep.

“Toss” included the umpteen million really nice plastic containers our extremely environmentally unfriendly local Italian joint insists on using for takeout. We whittled down to six of each of three sizes, with lids. Which is still too many, but you should’ve seen the Everest-high pile there before.

“Salvation Army” contained a gorge ceramic ashtray monogrammed with a ‘B.’ Hubby’s first wife’s name begins with a B, and since I knew it wasn’t mine, I got properly paranoid. I figured I didn’t need to give shelf space to any tchotchkes attached to Wifey No. 1. Feel me?

“Storage” included a number of Cuisinart gew-gaws, such as a second(!!) unopened 11-cup Food Processor and, inexplicably, a brand new Ice Cream Maker. The latter had to have been beauty editor graft, because there’s no way I would have registered for that for my wedding. It’s like, ‘Hello, I just married you, and I will now proceed to get as fat as a house.’ Still, with the Wee Lass in our lives, I know we’ll use it come summer. For now, however, it doesn’t need to live on premises.

“Keep” is all the stuff I really use, and | or really like, such as a number of Tiffany serving platters and two crystal ice buckets. Those ice buckets are adorable, and I think they’d make super-chic potato chip holders for our upcoming holiday party. In fact, I think I have enough good crystal to create a festive winter ice-themed “tablescape.” Project!

2. We replaced every “Keep” item, one by one, according to designated function: Every Day Use; School Lunch Prep; Party Time and Currently Beyond My Skill-Set.

The first two categories are self-explanatory – nesting bowls, baking dishes, Hello Kitty thermoses and the like.

“Party Time” is all the platters, decorative bowls, napkin rings, etc., that we use occasionally – but not so occasionally that they’d be better off in our condo building’s storage unit. I got rid of several items from this pile that were either battle-worn or I just didn’t dig. Eventually I’d like to own a full set of perfectly matched stuff – I say that every time the Crate & Barrel catalog darkens our door – but until we move into our ultimate Barbie Dream House, it isn’t a front-burner priority.

Which brings me, finally, to the “Currently Beyond My Skill-Set” group. Along with a brandy new Braun Deluxe Juice Extractor, this stash includes an opened-but-not-yet-used other Cuisinart 11-Cup Food Processor. I am sooooo intimidated by that big beast. But I think it’s high time I got over that. Use it or lose it.

Yes, I know – big whoop, two freaking cabinets. But in clearing those out, I was able to make room for a bunch of stuff that was clogging the countertops. So now it looks soooo peaceful and organized, with plenty of workspace. A welcoming place to cook for my cute little family.

I’ve been in and out of Gotham every day this week, so I’m a happy little clam to park it over here on the quiet side of the Hudson and chill.

Please, who am I kidding? I’ve already done about 90 loads of laundry, paid my whopper of an Amex bill and designed the invite for our holiday party. It has a polar bear on it. And if you know anything about Momover Lady, you know Momover Lady loooooooves polar bears.

Which reminds me: I need to send an end-of-year donation to World Wildlife Fund, which is busting its collective ass to save those gorgeous, lumbering beasts from extinction.

So on one of my city outings this week, I was in a crammed-to-the-rafters PATH train car right next to possibly the most zealous and organized person on the planet. She was, in a word, fascinating. Tiny, like me, but I’m guessing considerably younger. And I think she was swingle, because I didn’t see any rock action on her left hand.

Picture this scene: There is not an ounce of space in this car, everyone’s packed like sardines and because the PATH train can toss you around like a rag doll in the belly of a twister, you need a free hand (or two) to hang on for dear life.

But this chicklet – let’s call her Pinky, like my imaginary BFF in Beverly Hills – had much more pressing issues on her mind than, say, not crashing headfirst into the side of the subway car. Instead, she would hold on for a second, then release just long enough to scribble something in her little pink notebook.

Immediately, I started reading over her shoulder. (Yes I know; I’m a terrible person.) And there lay the mother of all lists. It was headlined in subsections (“Holiday 2011″ and “To Do”) and coded with little bullets and arrows. She had lists of people (Grandma, Bob, etc.) to give gifts to.

And right then and there, before my very eyes, she brainstormed present possibilities. Some lucky meat-eater is getting an Omaha Steak. Another set of pals will be the proud recipients of a “cast-iron pot.”

Genius, right? I can’t even imagine deploying brain cells like that, mid roller-coaster ride, to scroll through my mental Rolodex in search of a petit cadeau for my buds and land on Le Creuset.

But that’s how the Pinkys of this world – whether they hail from Jersey or BH – get so much done. They’re very decisive and listy, and nothing stands in their way.

When we pulled in to her stop, Pinky tucked her pen into her little pink notebook and placed it in her bag, right next to her pink travel coffee mug. And then she whipped out her iPhone – in its little pink case – and was on her merrily efficient way.

I’ve never said I wasn’t slow on the uptake. So now, after God knows how long after the entire world discovered it, I’m finally reading The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin.

Oh my, j’adore. I love that someone could -  did – take such a methodical, hyper-researched approach to boosting her day-to-day cheerfulness and gratitude.

And the fact that so much of it requires elbow grease and self-discipline is so telling. I’ve always suspected as much, which is why I’m fairly addicted to self-improvement. But I’m overjoyed to have the validation that color-coding your sock drawer is a way more effective route to lifting your mood than that second or third margarita.

Full disclosure: I tried the second-margarita approach to happiness last night, at our neighbors’ Halloween party. But quite smartly, I’d brought along several cans of Mercy hangover-prevention with us (in lieu of a bottle of wine or some other type of alcohol-laced hostess gift), so I’m not feeling too down for the count today. Those 10,000 milligrams of B vitamins really work.

But back to the book.

I’m only on “January,” but I am completely digging it. It’s all about the steps the author took to hike up her energy levels, and one of the chief ways she did that was to clean and organize. Oooh, music to Momover Lady’s ears.

I’m impressed with the way Rubin labels the particular clutter in her life, and, in so doing, makes it damn near impossible to let it stick around. Some of it’s self-explanatory. Nostalgic Clutter, for instance, is carryover from ancient projects and previous lives, and Rubin cites a massive box of materials from a seminar she’d taught ages ago as an example.

In my case, I have clips of magazine articles I wrote literally 15 years ago that I’m still hanging on to. Insanity. Move on, little doggie…

But I was most impressed by a few new clutter categories Rubin identified for herself – and, by extension, so many of her readers. Like Crutch Clutter, which includes all the depressingly shitty clothes we let clog up our drawers. Recently, I’ve been zeroing in on all my less-than-stellar sleepwear. Why should I subject poor Hubby to that? So at least three times this week, I’ve taken something off my bod in the morning and tossed it right in the trash.

One pocket of gizmos and gew gaws – Aspirational Clutter – has always been my weakness. This is the stuff we hoard in the hopes that we’ll actually use it some day. For Rubin, it was a glue gun she never learned how to operate. For me, I think it might be the still-in-its-box, state-of-the-art food processor we got as a wedding present. In 2004. (Update: Oops, I got hitched in 2003. How time flies when you’re having fun!)

But then again, I only really started cooking about five minutes ago. So maybe I’ll eventually get around to using that food processor. See? See how I rationalize my Aspirational Clutter?

The only thing I can say in my defense is that I’ve recently resurrected several crafts projects – namely knitting and potholder making – that I’d let languish for years. And I now have several groovy new scarves and a tidy little pile of festive potholders to thank for my minor hoarding.

But I’m sure there’s a middle ground between extreme order and a secret stash of Aspirational Clutter. And I can’t wait to keep reading and find out.

Cartwheel time: My sister arrives tomorrow night for a week-long visit. Though we’re in frequent touch via phone and email, it’s been far too long since we’ve been in each other’s actual physical orbit. Tsk tsk…

The Wee Lass is over the moon that Aunt Jan is headed our way, and is already trying to find a good hiding place for her ratty old “night-night” blankie. I keep trying to tell her that no one has a problem with it, and it’s not like she’s addicted.

Here’s how I know she’s not chemically dependent on that now truly gruesome hunk of cloth: About an hour or so into Road Trip 2011, I turned to Hubby and silently mouthed: “Oh. My. Effing. God. We left the night-night behind!” And guess what? For 16 days, sans blankie, she somehow managed to sleep and have the time of her little old life.

Because I’m theoretically a grown-up, I figure I need to kick up the guest-prep a notch beyond night-night hiding. And scrolling through my mental Rolodex, I remembered a great ep of Nate Berkus that was all about making your overnight visitors feel welcome.

So this morning, I tried, in vain, to track down that particular show on The Cute One’s wonderful website. No luck. Then I tried Googling a whole mess o’ stuff, and in so doing, discovered that The Cute One has his very own line of bedding. Of course The Cute One has his very own line of bedding.

Anyway, ace detective that I am, I finally arrived at bits and pieces of what I was after in an in-depth interview Boston Mamas conducted with Nate. (Jealous much?)

I will now recap a little bit of the Boston Mamas chat, mixed-in with snippets of Momover Lady’s very own memory.

Without further ado, here are Nate’s tips and must-haves for making Aunt Jan feel cozy chez moi:

1. Fresh flowers in a pretty vase. Doesn’t have to be a lot. A few will do.

2. Brandy new, fluffy white towels, laid at the foot of the bed. Why not fuchsia or some other snazzy hue? Think about it, Nate implored. When you stay at a hotel, don’t you want to know that the towels you’re using are as bleached to smithereens as humanly possible? Colored towels don’t give you that same level of comfort. In other words, you don’t know what types of stains might be embedded within.

3. A lovely gift-wrapped soap, plopped on top of the aforementioned brandy new, fluffy white towels.

4. A luggage rack. That’s extra credit, but such a nice touch, yes? Per Nate, some guests, particularly for short stays, don’t like to unpack. I’m guessing Aunt Jan will want to, so I’m clearing drawers for her. And yes, I’m bucking for Sister of the Year.

5. A book or two or three on the nightstand, with a heartfelt, handwritten “I thought you might enjoy these” note. I’ve already saved Andre Agassi’s psychotically good memoir from a pile of books that was headed for Salvation Army. Now I have to poke around for something else to re-gift. But I refuse to part with my precious Seaside Knitters mysteries! She’s not getting those!

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Oh, there were so many more awesome Nate tips, including typing up menus for dinner – even if you’re only serving meatloaf.

But I unfortunately have to dash out of here for a lunch with my friend Deb. (Who has an amazing new jewelry line I’ll be sharing with you in an upcoming post.) And aprés dejeuner, it’s off to Target to procure the fluffy white towels and the lovely gift-wrapped soap. Cheers!

UPDATE: My sis (aka Aunt Jan) has since read this post and chimed-in that she might just like some bottled water to go along with her towels, her soap, her flowers, her books and her heartfelt handwritten note. And I quote:..”A couple of bottles of Aquafina / Dasani / Evian / Arrowhead / Whatever Brand laid out on the towels would be cool.” Well, alrighty. Coming right up. WTH is Arrowhead?

After a few months of being accosted by dust bunnies – and consumed with guilt that I might want to knit or watch RHOBH instead of scrubbing the bathroom floor – I’ve finally waved the white flag of surrender and hired a cleaning service to whip Momover Central into shape.

It’s called Spotless Planet and they are so fast and thorough and pleasant that I’ve actually decided that I’m really not such a horrible person after all for hiring them. I skip merrily through the house once they’re finished for the week, marveling at all the many chores I won’t be doing.

The weird thing is, when I actually do clean, I get really into it. But now that I’m working full-time again, and developing another website on the side, I’ve decided that the few hours a week I have for house-maintenance should be spent organizing.

Right now, par exemple, the kitchen is preying on my feeble mind. It’s a pretty good size, with lots of cabinets, but I feel that when we moved in three years ago, we just sort of shoved stuff on shelves without really thinking through what we’d be needing on a daily basis.

And I don’t even really know what I own. Recently I spotted a brand-new, never-been-opened juicer and food processor! WTH? Oh, and an extremely schmancy espresso machine. They were either wedding presents or magazine-job swag, and they’re not doing me any good if they’re still in boxes.

Another organizing “hot zone”: A wall of built-ins in the Wee Lass’s play space that are jam-packed with techno-gadgets, books, cleaning supplies (ironic!) and the always-worrisome “miscellaneous.” All of that needs to be dealt with too.

My point: I have plenty to do around here that doesn’t involve plugging in the vacuum. And maybe when, and if, I ever achieve my ultimate goal of a house that looks like a hotel, I’ll go back to cleaning it myself.