Love It

Alright, so I know I'm weird, but I get quite a thrill out of cleaning and organising stuff. In the past few months I have helped out family members with cleaning their homes to an empty, ready to move in state.  I am very proud that those of my own kids were remarkably easy, as they are all organised, clean individuals, and it was as smooth as silk. Then there was the one I wrote about previously that boggled the mind, curdled the gut contents and made you seriously wonder how people live in that way. That's when the OCD kicks in, the "I'm never going to be like that" mantra that I have carried over 4 decades.  But time isn't kind sometimes, and the way you actually want to live in a clean, pristine, carefully arranged environment just doesn't eventuate. Other times though, well, then it gets fun!  The spousal being departs for parts unknown to most of us, the localised offspring depart for fun and sun, the boarder retreats for fear of being asked...

This term conjures up all kinds of images of scones, jam, cream, chocolate cake, clean laundry, fresh smelling linen and preferably puppies roasting by an open fire. Yesterday I handed someone the keys of what was arguably the last family home that I had.  Well, my parent's home, my mothers home, as my dad died two decades ago. My first family home was a 3x1 in a Perth suburb, we had a dog and a cat.  Well a poodle, and an awesome cat to be honest.  Spot was a cool cat, my first rehomer special. The dog a poodle who bit me, and only liked my mother.  It had a pool that my dad spent endless hours cleaning, designing and maintaining when he was home.  There we some happy times, but they were overshadowed. It was a house of fog, you knew there was beauty there but it was hard to see. Then dad moved to his flat, which was only a few months, then to an aged care place.  Grandma moved two years later, and her little flat was truly a home.  It had the sm...