And so here I am maidless and venting, with a vengeance.
5 reasons why I hate housework
1. It’s unending
It really is. Like draupadi’s sari. Even with all the modern day appliances. Washing, cleaning, cooking, dusting, clearing up, making beds, putting clothes to dry, ironing, settling cupboards… on and on and on.. to infinity. And I’m not even beginning to include the kiddie stuff. It sucks one in like quagmire.
Corollary: It leaves no room for thought for anything else. You’re only thinking of the next task and the next one and then the next.
2. It requires an extremely high level of multitasking (which I obviously lack).
Sample this: I put the milk to boil and spot the Hrit’s beyblade near the gas stove (which he’d brought in for me to fix and I couldn’t because my hands were all floury). I fix the bey blade and go to give it to him in the kids’ room where I trip over a bunch of toy animals. I start putting them away till I smell … you’ve guessed it.. milk. Then it’s just happy mopping.
I routinely burn my veggies. Routinely. The other day I decided to sit it out in the kitchen and carried my book and beanbag there. Big Mistake. I was roused to the smell of.. right.. burning vegetables this time. Rush rush to salvage what I can.. Wash the pan.. fresh oil.. more cooking… aaaargh!
3. It tires me out without letting me lose weight.
Oh yes, it does. If I were to lose even half a kg a day doing all of those chores I’d do it gladly. Where’s the point of getting bone tired and not losing an ounce? On the contrary hanging out in the kitchen in close proximity to food spells pure danger. Plus you’re only too happy to eat what the kids are eating rather than making special low-cal stuff for yourself.. more problem on the weightloss front.
4. It spells the end of ‘quality’ time with kids.
No way can I spare the time for crafting with Naisha or trying out a recipe with Hrit. The dread of clearing up paint or picking up bits of paper.. prohibitive. As for the cooking, I just want to get over with it and get to the other tasks before the next meal comes along.
Corollary: It takes away the pleasure from otherwise pleasurable tasks…. like taking the kids down to play or putting them to sleep. While I’m telling them their bedtime story my mind wanders off to the dinner table that needs clearing or the kitchen that needs to be tidied.
5. It spells the end of ‘me’ time
Well you might catch some television while doing your ironing but reading, blogging, even an hour at the gym can be considered pure luxuries. (That explains just four posts in November and the increasing weight).
Housework makes me crabby and irritable mostly because I’m just not fond of it. How oh how do scores of women do it every single day of their lives without turning into complete harridans? I’m turning into one for sure. I’ve even taken the God’s to task… so there’s your proof.
Disclaimer: These are the ramblings of an overworked housewife sorely missing her maid, who is pregnant (the maid, not the housewife, Thank God) in her husband’s quest (for the fourth time) for a ghar a chirag. The post is to be taken with oodles of salt.
Thank You.
