It's hard enough to be an entrepeneur these days, but to be a woman in a house full of testosterone -- that's where the real bravery is. I always swore that my boys would do the dishes, cook, clean up after themselves, when they were young (and I was obviously stupid). I think all these years they've just heard "blah, blah, blah" -- because that's what it amounts to, a bunch of blah. My boys just won't clean without me becoming the scariest, screeching mom in Damascus (I just know my neighbors hear the screaming with their phones in one hand, fingers poised to hit 9-1-1 with the other).
Since I started the studio some six months ago (nearly 7 now), I haven't had but a day to spend at home for anything other than sleeping. And on those days I've cleaned like my life depended on it only to come home hours later to the same exact, foul, disgusting house that I spent my precious free time cleaning. What's up with that??? Now, granted, my kids (separately) have been known to see a sorrowful mom who, under the guise of "oh, you cleaned the house" fever, generously parts with a few dollars in her moment of weakness, but lately those occasions have been few and far between. Now I don't know if that's because I was finally hit with the reality that I've been paying my kids to clean up their own messes and stopped paying them or if they have just ceased to care. Bottom line is - I could seriously use a home makeover, one that uses minimalism and color (oh, and we'd have to become dieting nudists because the dirty dishes, pots and pans and all the laundry would have to go too).
My studio is quite the opposite of my home. Other than at the end of a very busy day, my studio is clean and inviting. I'm actually thinking about putting a sleep sofa back in my office so I never have to go home and face the mess, but can stay here in my own controllable, clean world. So, if I happen to open up the store one morning in my fuzzy robe and slippers you'll know why.
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