Time to come clean: there’s another man in my life.
It’s our little secret. We rendezvous once a fortnight. He slips in, wipes away my worries and leaves no finger prints to suggest he’s touched me up. He’s discreet, meticulous and does everything I ask of him. Even scrub the toilet.
He’s got Gumption and he’s not afraid to use it. Especially on the floor tiles.
You pun’d out? I have a cleaner. My boyfriend thinks it’s me.
Wipe the judgey look from your face. Before surface tension develops between us, let me explain.
I don’t chalk this up as a ‘lie’. I don’t flat-out claim ‘Sadie’ is my middle name and it’s me scrubbing this place from top to bottom. Don’t picture an image of me stretched out on the couch with a washer over my forehead, as he walks through the door claiming “the bleach has made me woozy”.
He’ll come home to a spotless home and say, “This looks great.”
My reply is simply, “Doesn’t it?” Technically, I just omit the part where there was a third party in this lemon-scented debacle.
He assumes it’s me; I don’t clear it up. Until now. *Puts dirty laundry out to air where everyone can see*
I kept it a secret because I felt like I was letting him down or not pulling my weight around the house by not getting the chores done. I wish I could do everything, but I can’t.
It wasn’t a skill set issue, it’s a time thing — and I knew he’d be disappointed that I was spending money on something we can do.
I wish I was superwoman. I wish I could juggle it all. I can’t.
I reached out one week because I looked at my To-Do list and thought, ‘What can I outsource?’ That was two years ago. My ‘outsourcing’ has turned into ‘habitual’.
We work so bloody hard I want to spend my Saturday morning with him eating an eggs benedict the size of my face, not with my face in the toilet bowl, scrubbing.
Between you and me, there are some interesting points to reflect back on. Why do I feel like it’s my role to clean? I think it’s more a money thing than a role definition that I feel guilty about.
Why am I more comfortable writing a column about it than telling him? I want him to think I’m spotless. I’m not. There’s a bit of dust when you lift up the rug. It’s not so bad that you could see me on ‘Hoarders’ but Aggie and Kim from ‘How Clean Is Your House’ could definitely find something to do here.
Will this take the shine off our love? I don’t think so. I do need to say something soon, before he realises that bottle of spray and wipe under the sink has been empty for three months yet surfaces seem to magically be smelling and looking delightful.
He needs to know I’m a bit of a mess. I guess I’d rather do a few things and sparkle, than stretch myself, try to do everything and do a half arsed job
Doesn’t a diamond form under pressure? Let’s go with that.