Standards

My mother in law visited recently. Here's all I really remember about the visit. During dinner, a bit of something fell on the floor. Mr. Bunny did a half-assed job of wiping it up, and I said good enough.

Mother in Law: I HAVE noticed your standards slipping a bit.

To be fair, she and I both know her standards are far lower than mine, so I don't think she meant it in a you're filthy and I'm appalled way, I think she meant it in a thank heavens you're finally sinking to my level way. But I sure did want to punch her in the face. Particularly since we would have cleaned the house that very weekend, but for her visit. Turns out it's hard to find time to clean when there's an endless stream of visiting relatives wanting to be entertained.

I will eventually let this comment go, but it made me think about standards, and what to do about mine.

People like to tell you that when you have a baby you just have to let things go. Can I let things go? Hmmm...

I'm not anal, I swear. There are whole areas of the house that I don't give a shit about. Like that spot between the fridge and cabinets where stuff falls and can't be retrieved, or, you know, other things that make me sound genuinely not anal. And I have relaxed my standards a fair bit, for Mr. Bunny's sake. But I grew up in chaos, and keeping things orderly makes me feel safe and in control. Plus I find cleaning therapeutic. Like, I actually have a duster and vacuum in my office, and when I'm struggling with some project, I clean. This does not mean I always feel like being elbow-deep in dirty dishwater or shitty diapers, but by and large, cleaning is not something I detest. So I don't want to let things go, and I don't want to do the other obvious thing, which is hire a cleaner, for the above reason, and others.

The solution is clear, of course. Refuse to allow anyone to visit, particularly my WHORE of a mother in law.