Evening Spruce

Every night after I wrangle Edith into bed, I do the following chores:

• Pick up the bathroom, rinse out the tub, put Edith’s clothes in the laundry room
• Clean up the kitchen, wipe down the table and high chairs, load/unload the dishwasher, wipe off the counters, vacuum the crumbs up
• Pick up all the shit in the living room and toss it into the playpen
• Pick up all the shit in the hall and toss it into the playroom, pick up the playroom and put all the toys and books away
• Dustbust the playroom where all the snack crumbs have gathered, wipe down the shelves if necessary
• Spot clean the sticky spots up and down the hall and living room floors
• Take out the trash and/or recycling if necessary; otherwise toss Edith’s diaper can trash bag into the garage
• On Friday nights, I clean out the stroller and spray down and scrub the seat

It occurs to me that probably most people in my position would not bother with all this, but I just feel like doing this quick spruce on a nightly basis keeps the house from becoming overwhelmingly disgusting in between biweekly cleanings. It takes 20-45 minutes depending on how bad it’s gotten, and I listen to a podcast and make a game out of how fast I can do it.

This is the sort of thing where sometimes I think if I were married, I might not come out of the bedroom at night completely exhausted and then also have to do all this, too. But then I remember that I probably actually would still, if going by the married couples I know is any indication, and this way at least I don’t have to suppress my resentment while I do it. It’s really not that bad, and can at times be contemplative in its way.