I walk around the house carefully so my feet doesn’t land on a toy or a ball that’ll take me sliding across the living room. Toys, they are everywhere – upon the table, on the bed where every night we make a thorough search for pans and spoons before daring to sleep, almost every shelf around the house and even the pedestal where our Gods once rested peacefully.
It’s not just my daughter’s toys that are wreaking havoc at home, books are culprits too. And they are not just Medha’s picture or Reader books, mine as well. My journals, note-books, latest and old “Vegetarian Times” magazines, latest and old “Writer” magazines, a National Geographic, novels, reference material and whatnot! Even though they make a pretty sight for a book-lover like me I know it doesn’t to others. I always hustle to stuff them in the nearest drawer before a guest arrives.
If the toys and books keep me busy cleaning or worrying about cleaning all mornings the state of my kitchen gives me nightmares. We have a big kitchen that’s as big as our living room but every inch of its space is crammed with utensils, snacks, cooked food, uncooked food and food that has lived past its edibility. When I pull a bag of pasta out, I jump aside so that the packets of maggi and Ban Pho noodles don’t fall all over me.
Moments after I clean up, a new layer of mess accumulates, dashing my hopes of a tidy home. Instead of working towards the title of Mrs. Clean, spit-shining during my every waking moment, I’ve decided to tackle this project, one shelf or closet at a time. Each day I set aside a few minutes to clean one small part of the house and let the rest of it remain messy. That way I have the satisfaction that comes with ticking off one thing in my to-do list and house-keeping doesn’t seem as monstrous a task as it used to.