One Room At A Time
I was diagnosed in 2004, but even before that I was tired, not too stable on my feet, and, except for the kids' rooms, I was not too worried about housework. After all, I had a husband who did not mind a little dust. When I had to stop working, I was alone at home during the day.
My husband worked and the kids were at school. Not wanting to come home and finding me on the floor, my husband insisted I stay in bed or sitting in the den or living room until he got home. After all, he only worked until 1 or 2. I would try to clean when he was home, I tried to teach the kids how to clean or at least, clean up after themselves, but by then it was a losing battle.
Trying to get things in order
Fast forward 18 years. The kids are gone...college, then working. My husband was, for some unknown reason, tired all the time, could not concentrate and, at times, even seeing things. Of course, he had to retire from his job. But the doctors could not find anything wrong. One child moved back home "to help." But she worked FT and housework was the last thing on her mind.
Then my husband was dx with cancer. The Big "C." Suddenly, I was the caretaker. I looked around the house and was utterly ashamed. Our beautiful house, that we had scrimped and saved for, for more years than I am willing to admit to, was a pigsty. Too embarrassed to have anyone over, I have been trying to get our house, yard, and garage back to order...One Room At A Time.
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