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?