I’m convinced of it – reproducing induces the slob gene. I found a smear of food on my face last week when washing my hands in the restroom – over an hour after I had eaten lunch. My house looks like a tornado made its way through. The floor board of my car is covered in fast food bags and other trash. And my lab bench, well, I just stained one of my favorite tops with spilled Coomassie stain this week – which I didn’t notice was there because I can’t actually see the surface of my bench for all the crap that has accumulated on it. There was a time that I wouldn’t stand for this type of mess, but things just don’t get done as efficiently as they used to.
I can’t decide what the precise reason for this is. Am I too tired to notice? Or to care? Or, as NicoleandMaggie put it, have I subconsciously decided that living (and apparently working) in squalor for the sake of spending time with my son is acceptable? I’m not really sure, but something’s changed. I look at the kitchen floor, a pale-colored tile that I would rethink if I could go back in time when we were choosing our flooring; it’s clearly in need of a mopping, and the thought of cleaning it exhausts me (except for 3 weeks ago when I finally scrubbed it clean – I figure I have another 4 months before it gets so bad that I won’t be able to stand it).
Once Monkey gets old enough, I’ll hire him on to help me with mopping the kitchen floor. Until then, I’ll wait until I have the energy, or Hubby decides to do it. And the rest of the time it will just have to look a bit dingy. Except when we put our little 2-bedroom condo, which we have quickly outgrown, back on the market in a few weeks. We might have to mop the floor then, or maybe we can hire a maid. I wonder if he/she would clean my lab bench for me too???