aging day by day

One of the many changes about not working is how being around the house a lot has you noticing little things like the dust, the hair tumbleweeds from the dogs, that every bush and tree needs constant pruning. Paying that much attention is not a good idea. I try to counter by not wearing my glasses a lot. Now, of course, another solution would be to clean more often, but what kind of retirement would that be? And having a cleaning lady means I would have to go somewhere to get out of her way, and take two dogs with me, and after all I have not much income, so that makes no sense. Going to movies in the daytime is helpful, and mostly you do not see any dust in houses depicted in movies,and the floors are newly polished and fresh flowers are in vases scattered throughout the abodes. (As you can see, I do not watch horror films) And at the same time you can drop popcorn on the floor and leave a veritable garbage dump by your seat - not that I do. I don't like to litter except within my own home.

I am now acutely aware that the inside and outside of the house need painting badly, and the floors redoing and on and on. I check the cracks in the ceilings as I sit reading, and have noticed wallpaper curling away from the wall. But I'd rather take a trip or buy a new book that properly maintain the house, and my husband is fearful we will sink into poverty the minute he retires, so it's hard to battle his end-of-the-world scenario. Wait until he's home a lot, which will begin in June, when he retires. We'll have to drape the walls with sheets and wear sunglasses inside.

I trace this lack of housewifely zeal to my job during college of being the housekeeper on a large estate. My husband was the gardener, and for our work we were able to live in a studio apartment over the garage. Me and Sabrina. The house had fourteen enormous rooms, some of which were as large as my whole house now, and seven bathrooms. And the owner liked the floors of the tiled kitchen, breakfast nook and pantry washed by hand. No floor polishers for her, no sir. She also sometimes left the three young children in my care while I was cleaning on my day. Thursday. I still remember. It was a beautiful house, with an enormous library I coveted, but the dusting and vacuuming was endless, and so were the toilets. I believe I completed all of my cleaning hours for a lifetime during that period, and have remained unmotivated ever since.

Yes, I guess I will have to hit the streets more often, and that kills two birds with one stone. I'm not messing up the house or stirring up dust, and, more importantly, I can't be a witness to the decay.