The house is a mess, but at least there's not dead rats everywhere...

I have to admit, I've let the housework slip a bit lately. There ares cobwebs in corners, the toy pile in the study is growing, there are odd bits of clothing strewn around, I'm behind on the washing, the front yard's full of weeds and the list could go on endlessly. When I thought about washing the floor on Friday morning, I immediately thought of a weekend of gardening & mud & put it off (again). Even Gerard is starting to notice that there's gunk on the shelves in the kitchen. And he's a fan of the Quentin Crisp approach to housework.

Quentin Crisp was famous (among other things) for not doing housework & for saying in his autobiography that the dirt didn't get any worse after four years. G saw a show about him on TV and has claimed ever since that you don't need to dust because areas of the house that are well used stay relatively dust free.

My own standards vary wildly depending on how busy I am, how depressed I am, whether we are likely to have vistors that I either don't know well or who I think will have scary standards of their own, whether I need to see beauty & order and how energetic I feel. At the moment although a really clean & tidy house would be delightful, there are so many other things I would rather do. Like write, or sew, or garden, or go visiting or simply hang out with Grace. So I'm really only doing what I consider the bare minimum.

In the new financial year, when I go back to work part time, G will be home one day a week. So we're talking quite a bit about the division of domestic labour. Because he wants to stay home more & for me to return to work at least a little.  So I keep saying, this means you have to do the housework & this includes folding laundry. And he says, well yes. And to be honest, he's not too bad at doing housework but his standards are a bit different. When he starts noticing that things need to be done & suggests a day of joint action then I know I've really let it slide. And this morning he came out with the statement that was such a classic that I had to make it the title of today's post. No dead rats. Indeed. Something to be thankful for.

I've been admiring these orchids that a friend grew (how clever, mine never flower). They send an intoxicating scent through the house. Covering the odour of dead rat. Actually if you look up to the top left corner of the picture next to the curled up pendulum of the clock, you can see a cobweb. Normally I would edit such dreck out but tonight, in the spirit of slacker housekeeping, I'm letting it hang loose.

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