I have come to the conclusion that there are two types of families in this world: those who do all things themselves and those who have to hire someone to do everything. I come from the latter kind. R comes from the former.
For years this subtle difference has been the cause of much strife in our marriage. When we bought the car and I wanted it professionally inspected, when I wanted to buy Sam a doll house and R insisted he could make it himself (I am still waiting), when R's pants lost their button and I wanted to take them to a tailor (and p.s. he is still missing a button a year later since neither of us can sew). On and on and round and round, but nowhere was this more evident than in cleaning. Every Sat morning we would make a plan to clean. Every Sun night we would look around the house wondering where our time went and why the place was still a sty. No longer.
We have FINALLY made the decision to hire a cleaning woman. And not a moment too soon, I might add. Neither of us are particularly good at keeping a clean home, but with both of us stressed to the max, cleaning was the last thing for which we had the time or energy. Last week the house was teeming with filth; dust balls as large as our 22-pound cat, stains on the counter tops and dishes in the sink, sheets unlaundered for two weeks. It was too much--even for us.
I have brought R over to the dark side on this one. I think he will agree, a few extra bucks a month is going to be worth it for the peace of mind this luxury affords us. And if a few dustballs die because of it, all the better.