I am not one of those people who enjoys doing housework.
It's not that I like living in squalor. Like most people, I am happiest when my surroundings are clean and neat and free of too much clutter. And it's possible that if we had 25- or 26-hour days, I might be able to accomplish that. But for the last several years, my to-do list seems to be ridiculously long -- and the tasks that might bring in a little income get prioritized over the ones that don't.
Oh, let's just face it: I find housework BORING. And futile. And I'm not very good at it (probably because I find it so boring and futile).
While I get some satisfaction after a day of heavy cleaning (usually just before family or friends are due to visit), it is very short-lived. Five minutes after vacuuming and mopping the floor, there is new pet hair and debris in its place. And by the following day, all the scrubbing and polishing and putting things in their place have been for nought.
But when I've written something I'm really proud of, the satisfaction is forever. So you tell me how YOU'D rather place your time and effort.
Which brings me to my activities on Saturday: I decided to give the house a good cleaning -- WITHOUT any impending guests as incentive. (This gives you an idea of exactly how bad I had allowed the place to become).
And I didn't just give it a perfunctory dust and vacuum (which is my usual habit when the housework isn't urgent). No, this was hard-core. I moved furniture. I used the attachments. I cleaned and dusted the contents of the china cabinet.
And while I was doing it, I thought about the television series, Downton Abbey (which you may recall, I marathoned while feeling pissy last month). I love the series for its depiction of what on the surface was a simpler time -- and its examination of the actual complexities of living then.
I mean -- I think we all fantasize about what our lives might be like, had we lived in the past. I know that when I do, I imagine myself to be in a position of wealth and power, like Lady Mary. Although in reality, my position in society would likely be on an even lower rung of the ladder than it is now. Like Daisy the kitchen maid, I might count myself lucky to find a job in a great house -- where I would spend each and every day doing what I hate most: cleaning.
On Downtown Abbey, it takes an army of staff to keep the Crawley family living in elegant style. The series takes pain to show unnamed housemaids dusting chandeliers and polishing silver every single day. We haven't seen the introduction of the vacuum into the house yet, so there must have been some contingent of people beating rugs. And I think I would go nuts trying to set a table with Carson looking over my shoulder, measuring the distance between knife and fork so that all settings are perfectly even.
No, I would not have made it in that world. Even if I was fortunate enough to land the job, even if I managed to perform my duties day after day without wanting to kill myself -- I do not have the aptitude that would allow me to get ahead. Anna the housemaid is expected to do Lady Mary's hair (my own daughter banished me from touching hers during the gymnastics years, when she had to keep it up for competition). Lady's maid O'Brien is expected to mend and sew (other skills I've never been able to master). I might have a shot at becoming a cook, except that meal planning for my family has lately been a thankless chore, and I don't think I'd ever be able to match Mrs. Patmore's ability to whip up a multi-course meal for unexpected guests with little notice.
While watching Downton Abbey, I was reminded that my late father-in-law was "in service," at the tail-end of the system during World War II. Ten years ago, we visited the Cotswolds with him and sought out the manor where he had worked, as a groundsman.
The manor was called Banks Fee, and had belonged to a gentleman named Colonel Godman. It had recently been sold to a hedge fund manager, and was undergoing some renovation. The workmen allowed us to look around.
We circled the house and the stables. My father-in-law showed us where his gardening tools had been kept. And as we walked back to the little village of Longborough, we came across a woman whose elderly mum had also worked for Colonel Godman. The two of them gossiped about people they knew all those years ago.
I don't know what my father-in-law would have done had the War not changed everything. He didn't remain in service -- neither did many others, as technology and a rapidly changing economy took their toll on the system. He ended up a welder, and was employed by oil companies and sent to work on rigs around the world; an existence that seemed to suit him better.
Which brings me back to 2012. I am grateful that I don't live in a huge house (imagine how little I would get done if I had more than 1450 square feet to work with!). I am grateful to have the aid of technology like washers, dryers, vacuums and dishwashers.
Most of all, I am grateful that I do not work at Downton Abbey, and that I don't have to dust and clean and polish every single day. Now -- if I could just earn enough to hire a service... today, that is my biggest goal in life.
