NESTING IN SEATTLE

Hotel life is not always the sweet life. Since we are basically living here in this hotel for the next three months I have pretty much made myself at home. Underwear in places that would really make you scratch your head, towels in places where your underwear should be, and four and a half suitcases worth of stuff I couldn’t live without, crammed into the nooks and crannies. So the pressure is starting to get to me.

At home I don’t mind a little clutter. Just a little, no dirt or grime or piled up trash, but a little clutter just makes it homey, right? Unless you are having people over! I mean any people; the UPS man, the bug man, an inquiring neighbor and of course invited guests. I like for people to walk in my house and say “Wow it’s so clean.” or “smells great in here” or “You did the faux work yourself! Can I hire you?”

I have been known to hide dirty pots in the shower when caught off guard by a drop in. What they don't know won't hurt them.

And therein lies the pressure; I never know what time of the day the knock is coming. “Knock, knock, knock, HOUSEKEEPING!”

Crap… they’re here already; I haven’t cleaned up yet.

Since I currently work at home, or hotel in this case, I am here all day and am usually around when they come to clean. I just can’t have them coming in to clean a dirty room. I mean really; what would they think of me if they saw my underwear on the coffee table or myriad post-its reminding me to check my calendar for appointments?

So I am under this constant pressure to keep the suite clean and tidy. (Yes, Wayne thinks I’m nuts)

I know my blue collar is showing, but I have a hard time sitting around watching another woman clean my house/suite even if I am paying her, (via the hotel bill and tips), it just feels funny. Today as this tiny woman changed the king size bed, with seven, yes seven, down pillows, a down comforter and an extremely heavy spread that covers the king bed to the floor, I just couldn’t take it. So I followed her into the bedroom and offered a hand.

Well, she wouldn’t let me help, she said it was her job and she didn’t try to do my job. So I left her to it; and she had it done while I was still wandering about in an awkward attempt to look relaxed. So I will keep trying to get it together enough in the mornings to pick up a little, and maybe some light dusting before the maids arrive, but I ain’t making that damn yacht of a bed or next week you’ll be reading posts on the HouseKeepingChronicles regarding the crazy lady at the end of the hall who keeps dishes in the shower.