After a couple of weeks where I have been so busy I have
barely had time to scratch my nose, I came home to face the reality that not
only was the Laundry Fairy missing (again), but my trusted cleaner was also on
holiday. For three weeks.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I am all in favour of pulling my
own weight and doing a fair share of the housework, however sometimes other
things take priority. Managing the minis rugby team, taking up a new post as
parent governor at the children’s school, pushing through changes and
communications as a member of the local residents’ committee, drawing up and
scoping out the go-to-market strategic plan for my main client, working on proposals
for new opportunities with my business associates, getting through (or even starting)
the latest selection of books for my reading club, trying to fit in some
semblance of training when I don’t fall asleep on the couch instead…
Anyway. You get the gist. The last thing I fancied was hoovering,
mopping, dusting or cleaning on a weekend. Or any weekend for that matter.
Cue the rescue party, aka the children. A reward system for
all chores performed to an acceptable standard, a tangible prize for any of
them who showed proactive initiative, and – hey presto – Alan Sugar eat your
heart out! A right little armada of helpers intent on manoeuvring the vacuum
cleaner around the house, pushing the mop over floors, polishing surfaces and
cleaning bathrooms.
They were all winners in their own right, however a special
mention would have to go to my daughter who not only took her duties to heart,
but also provided suitable abidance by health and safety regulations.
Who needs a governmental department when you have this kind
of talent?
