Wednesday, February 11, 2009

On becoming a domestic goddess

I have just shined my sink! I can see my face in it and it smells of bleach. I was exhorted to do this by my new online friend - FlyLady. FlyLady is an American website that promises to help you develop new routines and reduce the chaos in your life.

I cannot begin to say how seductive the whole FlyLady scenario is. If the sheer will to be a domestic goddess was enough, I'd have joined the pantheon of the polished years ago. Inside me there is a Stepford Wife just waiting to be released. The idea of an orderly home that smells of clean linen, artfully arranged flowers and posh candles really appeals. I suspect the truth is my house actually smells of fishfingers, Flora's lastest wheeze-inducing bath bomb from Lush and the delightful scent of fabric softener from the washing draped over the radiators. Not nasty exactly, quite clean even but not very Martha Stewart.

My problem is I want to be a domestic goddess, I so do, but I just can't be arsed. Being perfect takes a lot of effort I am discovering as I follow my FlyLady instructions. The other thing is while I like to be in control, I dislike being controlled. So I find myself bridling at FlyLady's daily instructions telling me what clutter zone I should be homing in on, to put on a pair of lace-ups when I get up (uh?) and to keep, and this is the worst bit, a Control Journal, in which you list all the tasks you are required to do. See, that makes me feel like not doing it. Inspire me do, tell me how lovely my home will smell, how I will see my face in my sink, how organised and uncluttered life will be but don't force me into keeping a journal. I don't mind a little list but a journal reminding me each day that I haven't yet swished the bath, wiped the workstops or shined my sink is just depressing and, quite frankly, bullying. I refuse to buy into the concept of bullying myself.

Right, I can't just sit here writing my blog. I've got a zone to declutter you know.

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