DEBORAH CORRAO / L’Observateur / November 21, 1999

The longer I stay home, the uglier my house gets. It’s now been six weeks sincemy surgery. I must confess that the first week I spent at home, I didn’t noticemuch except how much it hurt to get out of bed. But as my body recovers and I’mmore mobile, I can see how things have gotten away from me.

I’ve got one more week at home and my goal is to give the house a good cleaning before I go back to work. I know that things will only get busier through theholidays and into the new year.

I’m faced, though, with the age old dilemma of where to start.

I’m one of those people who doesn’t do anything today that can be put off till tomorrow. And, for some strange reason, whenever I go to tackle housecleaning,I get waylaid by the siren call of the closet. I have this obsession aboutorganizing closets and drawers and that’s about as far as I get.

After I’m through, I’m worn out.

It’s not that I don’t want to have one of those picture perfect houses in the magazines.I read those magazines religiously, but somehow it just doesn’thappen in my corner of the world. I’ve even tried to get my husband interested intackling a few projects, but if it can’t be done with a flick of the remote, he doesn’t get excited.

But there is a glimmer of hope. I’ve almost got him to agree to at least get ridof the ugly stuff – like the recliners that have served us well but a little too long. And he says he’ll vacuum today.Who knows? If he vacuums and I mop we’ll at least have the floors clean. It’s astart.

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