Like all women, I often go to bed at night and dream that a fairy will come into my home and clean. The washing folded, the showers scrubbed, the biohazard in the oven magically poofed away. The 1031 crumbs all swept away and the 1032 bits and pieces of paper, gone, all gone. She loves it, she lives to clean, she can’t do enough for me.
But all this time, I’ve been waiting in vain. She’s not coming and do you know why?
She knows she’s not needed.
Because while I was busy dreaming her up and wishing she would come, I actually turned into her.
That’s right, I am the cleaning fairy.
My kids mess up their room, walk away and poof, it’s gone.
My husband leaves muesli crumbs all over the kitchen counter every morning but he probably doesn’t even realise it because, poof, they’re gone.
The showers clean themselves. So do the toilets, floors, linen, counter-tops, skirting boards and the entire house while it’s at it. Dust magically wipes itself away. Towels change themselves. Washing self-folds. The vacuum self-sucks.
And speaking of self sucking…
We did this to ourselves. We run around like little fairies catching the drips, wiping the smears and sweeping up the gritted teeth that goes with the lot of it. We bitch occasionally, throw our hands up in despair and screech “Do you think a fairy does all the cleaning around here?”
Why, yes dear woman, yes she does.