In this, mental health awareness week, I thought it was time talk about something important. Why do we call it mental health? It’s the opposite, surely? We are becoming aware that an awful lot of people have minds that are the opposite of healthy. Sorry, I was sidetracked there. That wasn’t what I was going to talk about at all. It was just a thought that popped into my holey brain, like, ‘can cats be allergic to people?’ No! Don’t go down that route! What I was going to tell you about was housework.
You see, I had a great day yesterday. I was feeling on top of the world, all my routines had fallen into place, the sun was shining, I did yoga, played my flute, fed the birds, chased away the fat pigeon who likes to sit on the bird box every time the blue tit pipped at me, did a bit of work, wrote something, massaged my feet, watered the garden, fed the roses, walked the dog, made a cake and read my book all before lunchtime. The Long Suffering Husband went to play golf and as I was in such a good mood, I decided to do some proper deep cleaning type housework.
The house sparkled. The skirting boards gleamed, door handles reflected faces, bathroom sinks squeaked, you could slide on the kitchen floor with white socks and they would still be pristine at the end. My house is not normally like this. I own a glass cleaning cloth but I’m no Mrs Hinch. In fact, I found a bag of fermenting carrots at the back of one cupboard.
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| Blue Moon rose. |
This morning, I feel dreadful and I can only conclude that housework is bad for me. I used to have a fridge magnet that said, “Creative minds are rarely tidy,” and another that said, “Dull women have immaculate homes.”
Clearly, housework dulls the brain. I advise against it.
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