Everything seems so busy right now – work life, pick ups, drop offs, buying/growing/cooking food, chook maintenance, cat maintenance.  Washing/folding clothes…. Endless chores.  Some I’m good at, some feed my soul in the completion and gentle industry, but others, like cleaning the house just magnify how bad I am at the actual task…. And how much time is spent on things that are maintenance focused and not about growing the soul or feeding the painting muse – who seems to be totally (and disturbingly) awol of late.

So we got a cleaner.

And, paradoxically, the one area that should have freed up some time seems to eat into it.

There are benefits in knowing that a quick wipe of the bench is enough because someone very lovely will be coming to clean properly at the end of the week.  There are health benefits in having a house that is much less dusty because it is being taken care of by someone who is doing it once a week instead of when it becomes obvious it should be attended to (ahem).   There are happy-making benefits in a house that is forced to be de-cluttered and tidied on a weekly basis.  And it makes us neater.  And we love the cleanness, and the white, white floor.

And it smells good.

But we are still getting used to it, and the fact that we need to tidy for at least an hour before she comes, and be gone while she is there, which eats into the time when we can actually be enjoying the space.  We haven’t achieved flow with it yet.  And as awesome as she is – and she is AWESOME, it still feels weird that someone has come into the house and left.

I do feel my creativity has kind of stalled with it.  I can’t leave a project out to come back to.  I can’t leave 5 things dotted around the house with an unfinished magazine article open for a snatched minute.

A bigger adjustment than anticipated, but a great thing too.  It’s all about balancing the effort and the reward.  I probably need to relax into it more and let myself have that luxury – having that freedom should free my creative spirit but somehow it doesn’t.  I’ve always functioned better under pressure, and having to gently distract myself feels unnatural.

It’s a blessing.  It’s an adjustment.


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