Long work hours = no desire to clean once I’m home. Home is my escape from work.
Short work hours like today = desire to clean and feel the satisfaction of standing in a calmer, happier room.
Our desks are heavily used, and usually heavily cluttered. His more than mine.
Mostly plastic shavings. And dust.
Ick. I think it’s mainly whatever stain or coating is on the wood, rather than actual dirt.
The usual kitchen tidy-up. The floor needs a wipe, but all my cleaning cloths are in the laundry, so it only got a sweep.
I love hard surfaces. Someday we’ll get tile instead of wall-to-wall carpet.
The underlying carpet padding is literally cardboard, worn flat anywhere anyone actually walks. Would it disintegrate if I give it a long-overdue clean with a machine? Probably couldn’t make it any worse. Who knows what’s embedded under there. The previous owners had a big dog.
I can make superficial improvements.
Laundry was only sitting there a couple days. I’m getting quicker. Someday I’ll wash that giant mattress pad (in the basket) at the laundromat up the road. Or throw it out.
Of course, all this was procrastination from what I promised my partner I’d do this weekend: paint the house exterior. I still have time tomorrow after work…ha…ha.