I've been spending this week pretending to be an English/Literature/German teacher. It's a good gig; a small, private school, great kids, great staff. But I still have to leave home each morning. Even though we're not there to mess it up, it's amazing how our house is falling apart, little by little, each and every day.
Obviously, no one is there to leave trash, etc, lying around. But there's also no one there to pick up the clutter and put it away. And, when you're up and at 'em early in the morning, heading out to the great adventure of the day, it's easy to leave a trail of clutter behind you. A spot of toothpaste and water on the bathroom sink, an unmade bed, a rejected outfit. Breakfast dishes, coffee grounds, a dirty knife that was used to make a sandwich. Each of these is an itty bitty mess, but, gathered together, they make a house look tired. And, when the people of the house arrive in the evening, genuinely tired, the itty bitty messes grow. A stack of lunch containers. A receipt from a quick stop at the store. Mud on shoes, dirty travel mug, cooler (for lunch) which needs wiping out. Add in the little bits of bone the dog chewed during the day, and some tufts of cat hair, and, oh, my, we're heading toward a big mess.
It's obvious, in this world, that work needs to be done in order for a living to be made. But then who handles the living? Who is home to clean the home, organize the home, and make the home fit for those who will return to it in the evening?
I guess that's the BIG question.