Just as Theo’s nanny plunked him in the bath yesterday morning, she says to me...
“You really need to clean this tub.”
Me: Stunned silence.
Nanny: “You should buy KaBoom.”
Listen, I know I’m being judged on a daily basis by the nanny. She comes into our home and sees the empty wine bottles in the recycling, she steps over the tumbleweed-esque cat hair daily, she knows when we should’ve changed the cat box the night before, she sees the pile of laundry that somehow did not made it into the hamper in the corner of our bedroom. I say, judge all you want. But for the love of God, don’t tell me you think I live like a pig! I’m already keenly aware of this. And I already feel all sorts of inadequacies about it. But you know what: I’d much rather spend my Fridays and my weekends playing with Theo then dusting the picture frames, cleaning the windows or scrubbing the tub. Could I do all of this when Theo is sleeping? Sure. But dude, I’m tired!
Anyway, I cleaned the F-ing tub tonight. But I didn’t use KaBoom, so there.