30 July 2009

I have struck gold. The cleaner has arrived and is fabulous. She admits to being a little OCD, which seems to me the perfect quality for a cleaner! At last my flat can be clean, I can hopefully keep it a bit tidier, and all will be so much better.

I confess that it feels strange, having someone cleaning my flat. I've never felt very comfortable having anyone doing that, but at the same time I don't have a choice now. It's simply too much for me to do. Before it was a case of I'd keep it manageable, do it when it looked a bit feral, and that was that. Typical bloke I suppose.

When the MS struck, curiously I wanted things to be cleaner. But I couldn't do it. Correction, can't do it. I decided to hoover, and it took me a day to get the hoover out and do the hall, a day to do the other two rooms. And that was all I could manage. It totally wiped me out. I just wanted to sleep and sleep. It's just so stupid. A little bit of exertion - and let's face it, putting the hoover round isn't exactly trekking to the north pole.

That was, and is, one of the biggest frustrations for me. Anything just takes too much effort, or at least more effort than I have energy for.

But for the moment, I have an angel in my flat, making it clean and sparkly.