There is a peculiar kind of madness that women who employ cleaning ladies possess. It is now 10 pm (but in NYC, it's already May 31st, so I am NOT posting to my blog for the 4th time in one day. . .) and I have just realized that my cleaning lady will be here in the morning. I have two choices. I can leave the piles of crap all over the middle of the floor and come home to piles of crap on any convenient surface (presumably so that she can vacuum the carpet previously under the piles of crap), or I can stay up all night picking up and shifting around the disaster on every surface of my house so that she can get at any surface I have hired her to clean. Presumably there is a third option where I cancel her until 2 weeks from now, but I did that 2 weeks ago and the mold growing in the upstairs toilet is proof.
I find myself weighing all of my options here. I will be in Kindergarten all morning, so technically, I won't be here when she arrives. If she arrives on time and I take Rebi and Nate to lunch, I won't have to be embarrassed by the volume of clutter we have accumulated in the one month since she's been here. However, if she gets here late, I'm screwed. I will have to talk to her. So I'm back to staying up all night to pick up the crap my children drop in their wake. Oh, how I wish I had remembered this little fact before I decided to be nice and take them to the pool this afternoon.