allielujah snapped

I could not think of a title of my own, so I did a trusty quote search with the word "housewife". There were a few I liked, most of which were just a little too long. This one stuck with me, though. Credit here, plus another one I enjoyed.

I title my entry this even though, technically, I am not a wife and, technically, I am a student and work in a library. There are occasions were I do not appreciate the limitations of words and labels; this just so happens to be one of those occasions.

I choose to refer to myself as one. I choose to clean up our apartment when I am home all day during the summer. I choose to make sure at least the majority of the chores are done before Maxwell comes home. Not because this is what he wants, though of course he enjoys coming home to  a clean home after a long day at work, just as I do during the school year.

I also choose to act as a housewife acts.

This summer, I've been through the lazy, lethargic, sometimes mildly depressed stages that I've grown accustomed to going through. I feel as if I've finally gone over this hump and am acting more like the Allie I know. I think Maxwell is noticing it, as well.

And what made me realize this? I've cleaned the past two days.

Now this might not seem like a huge accomplishment, especially coming from someone who just coined herself a housewife. But the past few months have shown me as being someone who lounged around on the couch the precious days I had not children to watch or no class to attend. Those days showed me enjoying movies, shows on DVD and books, lots and lots of words being processed through my brain while the living room still had dishes glasses from the night before. The dishwasher, full but not running. The sink, full due to the fact that the dishwasher had yet to be use to its full potential. Clothes, still in the laundry baskets. Hey, at least they were clean.

It's as if something has occurred, something rather amazing that has lifted the "ughness" that is related to the daily chore routine and has also kicked my rear end until sitting on it was made difficult. Yesterday, I cleaned the kitchen, gathered the trash, cleaned the living room, put up the clothes, made the bed (why is this the worst chore ever, I ask?). Today, I've done all of those, sans the clothes (no need) and the bed (worst chore ever) and I plan to go scrub the kitchen counters shortly, sweep the floor, maybe even tackle the bathroom.

I hate to use the word burden, but that's what it felt like before to clean. Now, I feel as if it is my duty. My duty to who? Maxwell, myself, both? I'm not sure. I'm just happy that useless feeling that continued to creep into my head seems to have been beaten over the head with a stick.

Or, quite possibly, a broom.