It’s been a LONG day. We’ve moved offices so work is a leeeeetle bit stressful, which was followed by a big meeting in London and the usual single parent shenanigans of making sure I try not to forget to pick Dexter up from the childminders.
Tonight was different though. Tonight involved me making what is, for me at least, a very big decision.
You see tonight …. I went and hired myself a cleaner.
Those that know me, will realise what a massive decision this was for me. I’m not great at asking for help. OK, I suck at asking for help. I’ve been single for nearly 18 months now and have done my utmost to do well at work (getting myself a promotion ‘n that,) pick myself up after a shitty relationship and try and ensure Dexter gets a bath at least once a year. I’ve even done my best to address the whole ‘dating’ thing … and you know how well THAT turned out.
But something had to give. It was either me or the house.
For me, hiring a cleaner wasn’t a frivolous choice. It wasn’t because I’m lazy and CBA to clean. It was a case of preserving my sanity!
I will make savings elsewhere so that I can afford to pay for the three hours per week that my new cleaner is going to give me and I have every hope that she is going to sort out the clutter that I seem to have accumulated.
Don’t get me wrong, you won’t see me on Hoarders, things aren’t that bad, but I just need a little help.
I’m pleased that I recognised that before it was too late and that I’ve done something about it. To me, it’s a sign that I’m valuing myself more these days and realise that I deserve to be happy – even if that means just coming home to a hoovered lounge.
And you never know … one thing leads to another. One day, I might come home to a candlelit bath and a bottle of wine chilling in the fridge!
Oh, which reminds me … I must write about my last date.
Watch this space.