S.P.O.T.L.E.S.S.

The jingle of a morning text from mom greeted me again today.  "Bring my little vacuum".

Mom is never happy unless her home is spotless.  S.P.O.T.L.E.S.S.  in her new apt, she has dark floors, and every crumb shows up. She is also in a wheelchair with limited mobility, and housekeeping is a service included in her rent. 

Not good enough for her. She asked for a broom to sweep. And I asked what she planned to do after it's swept in a pile. She can't bend down to use the dustpan.  Then bring me a dust mop.  Where will you shake it out at?  So today, it was bring me the vacuum.

I guess thats going to be her solution. 

I'm all about her being independent and doing things for herself. But IMO, she should be taking care of her self, doing her exercises, getting herself to the different activities, not cleaning her apt so that housekeeping doesnt think she's.... *gulp*.... messy!?!?!

For a woman raised on a farm - and lets face it, dirt is a big part of that! - she seems overly obsessed with cleanliness and outward appearances.  No wonder she hated living with me.  

A country tune says "there might be a little dust on the bottle, but don't let it fool ya about what's inside. There might be a little dust on the bottle, but it's one of those things that gets sweeter with time."  

That's me. I'm not obsessed with a squeaky clean home. Yes, there is dust in places, maybe some crumbs on the floor, and probably a dirty dish and empty diet coke can on the living room end table. It doesnt stay that way for weeks on end (well, maybe the dust does!) 

But I'm OK with that.  She isn't!

Whatever keeps her happy. 

Patience and acceptance. This year's theme.