Wednesday, July 05, 2006

That was easy

I'm sure you've all seen the commercials from Staples featuring the easy button. What you may not know is that Staples actually sells those buttons. They're small and red with the word "easy" stamped on top that, when pressed, proclaims: "That was easy." I gave one such button to my assistant after a particularly harrowing week, and it fulfilled its intended purpose by lightening the mood a bit. It has proven itself to be a surprisingly useful little button, despite its consistent inability to solve all of our business needs like the commercials suggest. What it does instead is give me ample warning on those days when Assistant would prefer to be left alone. Nothing says "Stay out of my office!" quite like a rapid fire of "That was easy! That was easy! That was easy!" being hammered out of a little red button.

Apparently hoping for a similar warning system, Assistant took it upon herself to gift me with my very own easy button. As the happy voice on the Staples commercials says, “Your life may not come with an easy button, but your business can.”

Yesterday, as I was sitting at home gazing at the weeds in the lawn and the dishes in the sink, I wondered to myself, why CAN’T my life come with an easy button? Surely I don’t have to be this behind all the time. There must be a better way. Which led me to the same ol’ debate I’ve had with myself over and over again:

Housekeeper or no housekeeper??

I am old enough now that at least half of the people I know have a weekly cleaning service, supplemented in most cases with a biweekly yard service. And if I count only those people I know with children, I think I’m the only one without hired assistance of some sort. So why not me?

I guess I’ve just never thought of myself as the housekeeper type. Housekeepers are for blonde, busty women named CoCo who dress their chihuahuas in juicy couture sweat suits and wear heels with their bathing suits while they sip martinis all day at the pool. It feels very elitist to me, and I have no grandiose ideas that my shit is so special as to warrant hiring a professional to scrub it from my toilet.

On the other hand, I work hard. I’ve earned the perks that come with making a decent income.

On the other hand, there are people starving in Africa. Surely, if I have disposable income to throw around, I should be serving those less fortunate rather than serving my own laziness.

On the other hand, I have very little free time. Wouldn’t it be healthier to spend it bonding with my son instead of on hours of house cleaning?

On the other hand, what kind of mother would I be if I raised my children to believe that when the house gets dirty one simply turns on the bat signal and waits for help to arrive? At the very least, I would be banned forever from using the phrase “You made your bed, now lie in it.”

It’s settled then. For the sake of my son’s future well-being (and to protect my right to throw around time-honored parental cliches of wisdom) there will be no housekeeper. Because really, the last thing the world needs is another man who doesn't know how to take care of himself.

1 comment:

jacque said...

I say go for it! Z and I are considering it and we don't even have kids to spend the extra quality time with!

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