I can’t believe it’s not Better

I should be better at everything by now. I’m a perfectionist. That’s the way it works. I should at least be better at walking, and not be covered in bruises from not seeing tables and walls that throw themselves at me. In particular, though, I should be better at this domestic goddess thing. But guess what? I’m NOT. So, house. It’s YOU that should be better. Why can’t you do more? Why aren’t you adapting? I can’t believe you’re not better. I can’t believe you can’t at least buy butter, or order milk, or do SOMETHING useful other than sit here bumping into me every morning.

I’m getting quite perturbed by the house’s audacity, the way it just lolls around, parked on its hefty foundations, expecting me to keep doing all the things, while it never lifts a finger to better itself, or get a little fresh air or exercise.

Seriously. I’ve been managing my own living environment for twelve years now. I can conclude I’m fairly adult and responsible in most areas. I pay bills on time, have never had credit card debt, shopped around and selected the most cost-effective mortgage, hunted and bought real estate, travelled alone to foreign countries with only the clothes on my back, and successfully brought two healthy children into the world. I think this cements my status as ‘grown up’ in this housing relationship.

However, meal plans, preparing dinner at lunchtime, having designated washing days, organised pre-printed holiday packing lists, lists of service-people, drawers for cords and kids’ birthday presents pre-wrapped and labelled? Such things make me want to SLIT MY WRISTS. The house, on the other hand, has never once said thank you for my efforts to make it look pretty, brushing its hairy floors, or washing its face. It just doesn’t appreciate me. I’ve tried for so long, but I think, now, there’s only one conclusion I can draw. House? I’m just not that into you.

So, house. HOUSE yes – I’m talking to you! Pay attention, and look at me with your windows. Why aren’t your whitegoods good? Why are they so bad and lackadaisical, forcing me to do things like putting the dishes inside them, instead of being good and self-stacking? Why is the fridge continually getting empty and not self-replenishing? Why is the washing machine not able to put on a load of washing and wash? Why the HELL won’t my dining table fold up all of this washing? Doesn’t it know I want to eat some dinner there sometime this century???

Now – for some evidence of my house’s disappointing ability to adapt to its inhabitants. Here is my dining table. All laid out, ready for some feasting. On clothes. Lazy, lazy table. Call yourself Susan why don’t you.

The lazy table.

Here is the kitchen. It reminds me very much of the movie The Sixth Sense. The cupboards, particularly. Paying close attention to cupboard closure won’t enhance its beauty. No cordon bleu cooking happening here, people, can you believe it? It’s not very inspiring, despite the woodland setting of faux-trees-on-panels. I am a pretty good cook. No slouch. Give me the tools, and the space, and I’ll cook you a three-course gourmet bonanza. Here? Well… you get what you get and you don’t get upset. But come ON. This kitchen? Why hasn’t it thrown off its wallpaper in shame? If I was wearing that flowery dress I’d be walking around naked in preference. Why isn’t my wall? Have some PRIDE, wall. Take. It. Off.

I see … *whispers*.. dead wallpaper ….

Perhaps things will change one day, when I awaken to find myself in a beach-side abode of pure white, an enormous kitchen at my disposal and a hibiscus tree growing through my back window. We may then be in true love, my house and me. I don’t actually want to break up though. Happy things happen in this house, with my family. I’ll keep doing all the work, I guess, if it just remembers to be big and strong for me every now and again.

Sorry, house. I love you really. I’ll try harder ok? Promise.


Linking up with The Lounge over at Musings of the Misguided, because confessing to strangers in the dark is so much easier than making them coffee in your horrendous kitchen. 

35 thoughts on “I can’t believe it’s not Better

    • :) I know, right? I’m mitigating the problem though Grace. Teaching my kids if they have no clean underwear, the table is the best place to look for it. Because, where else would you look for undies?

  1. You’ve convinced me. I’m so done with my house- we are totally through! I’m going to say, “It’s not you, it’s me.”
    Don’t want any hurt feelings but we’ve just outgrown each other! I can’t keep doing everything.

    • You house will understand Marti. And if it doesn’t? You were never meant to be together in the first place :)

    • Thanks Jen, it will! I won’t be in it – I’ll be away. I don’t care what it gets up to when it’s not on my watch. It can throw a massive party with the garage for all I care. ;)

  2. Your dining table has a northern cousin – the table on my back deck is almost constantly covered in washing. And now you’ve set me free from believing it was ME that was the problem it is probably likely to remain that way! Oh sweet liberty from the washing table of shame ;)
    Rachel recently posted…The Siren Song of SalamiMy Profile

    • Oh dear… I may be to blame for women around the interwebz flinging their filthy clothes at their families and saying ‘HERE!’ YOU get this stupid house to co-operate, then we’ll talk.’ Meh. I could care more, or I could go and eat the salami in my fridge. ;)

  3. OMG – why had I never realised it before – I’ve been looking at this from completely the wrong angle for years!

    I’t’s NOT me at all – it’s the bloody house!

    Thank you … thank you so much ….
    Sarah Mac recently posted…Could Do BetterMy Profile

  4. I just don’t care about house stuff at all – I can kind of tune it out completely unless with have people with grown up houses over for dinner, then I notice how none of our dinner set matches and how a lot of our cups have chips (I swear they weren’t like that before I went to make coffee for this grown up).
    But the day I waste my head space shopping for a dinner set, is a day wasted.
    And one should never squander time…
    Lydia C Lee recently posted…What I learnt from Die Hard.My Profile

    • We should try and make it a point not to associate with grown ups. No good can come of it. Nobody should be forced to feel reflective over crockery. There’s a reason ‘crockery’ has ‘crock’ in it.

  5. Lovely, you’re off the hook! It is quite clearly your unco-operative house and not you that should be better at being perfect by now! Mine is a bitch too. Mr Eats World is anal and I’m a fussy perfectionist and between us things need to be just so. But right now our recalcitrant flat is WAY out of line. Damn thing oughta get its act together and tidy itself up. Stat! ;-)
    Aleney recently posted…Whitsunday wingmanMy Profile

    • How are we supposed to work with inferior team-members such as these?! They’re dragging us down and ruining our reputation, I tell you. Rage, Aleney! Maintain the rage!!!

  6. I hear you. Oh, how I hear you. I am a fellow perfectionist who just can’t be BOTHERED cleaning the house, knowing it will get dirty again, yet gets ANGRY at the house for not being clean. (Did I also mention how intelligent I clearly am?!)
    Emily recently posted…There’s a new man in my lifeMy Profile

    • A smiling Ace – I’d like to see that. Particularly as you are not technically a face card. My work here is done.

    • Sarah you say the nicest things. Can I keep you in my top pocket? Now go and bitchslap your good-for-nothing house! x

  7. THAT is not a messy table.

    I am constantly infuriated by the fact that every evening we cannot gather together at our dinner table it is so full of crap.

    Although in this instance I mostly rage (internally) at my husband who is the one that dumps shit onto the table and doesn’t do anything to clear it away, unless it is to dump it all into some other inappropriate location. Grr
    Katyberry recently posted…Where is my bloody pen?My Profile

    • Don’t blame your poor husband, blame the table. Why isn’t it self-clearing? What has it done all day anyway, other than stand there?? ;)

  8. We want a house. But I then think about how much more cleaning will be involved and so we continue living in the cramped apartment. But maybe then, if we could afford a house in Sydney, we’d also have a maid!!

    • Trust me Mez, you live in Sydney, there are no maids. Certainly not hiding under my bed, anyway. I know- I was there yesterday.

  9. Lackadaisical – that’s a good one. I’m challenging myself to work that one into my next post ;-). Seeing as though you already hate me (Because of the Hems vs Hids thing that wont go away) I feel comfortable in telling you that I do infact inhabit a beachside abode with much white. It hasn’t made me a better cook.
    mumabulous recently posted…MorningsMy Profile

    • I’ll be looking out for it. A game of post keyword bingo? You’re on. Can flick me one back if you like. Over Hems and Hiddles, maybe. But hate you for your beachside abode with 4 non-self cleaning twoilets? I think not.

  10. See now, I didn’t realise that it was actually my house that was a useless homemaker and not me! I feel such a sense of freedom in this realisation!

    My house is a total bitch, not only does it not do all the things yours won’t, but it won’t fix its own shower tiles, or get rid of the fucking cockroaches that keep crawling out of the garage. I’m sick of it, and if it wasn’t for my husband who refuses to move I would punt that bitch and find a new house who at least knew how to look after her shower tiles and had the good sense to be painted something other than a horrible shade of peach!
    Kylez @ A Study in Contradictions recently posted…I think I can, I think I can. Ah bugger it, I can’t!My Profile

    • I’m so glad to have freed you from a lifetime of senseless guilt and responsibility. Rail against the bricks! Pitchfork the peach paint!

    • Yep Ness, dream houses are best left in our dreams, unless they come complete with butlers, chefs, housekeepers and nannies. And all those people would just PISS ME OFF. X

    • Rachel – you’re my kinda cook. Creativity! Inspiration! Surprise! On the other hand… A pantry with enough tinned tomatoes to survive an invasion? Now that’s a MUST.

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