Here are a few chores I really would like to limit to just an annual occurrence. Believe me, I have more, but I am keeping it to three so that I can get to bed at decent hour tonight.
I have my ironing board set up in my bedroom. I place all of the wrinkled clothes on hangers, which I then dangle from the edge of the ironing board to await the day they will join the other, wrinkle-free clothes in the closet. I figure the pull of gravity on those wrinkles can only help me while they wait. Which is a really --- long --- time. One way I keep the ironing chore to a minimum is by keeping the ironing board in the bedroom. I am only there a couple of times a day. When I wake up. ("Gotta get myself showered and out the door.") And when I go to bed. ("So tired, gotta read my Grisham under these glaring lights and turn in.") Yup, outta-sight, outta-mind really does help keep the ironing down to a minimum.
Cleaning the tub/shower.
I love my Mr. Clean Magic Eraser, made specially for the bathroom. It "erases" away all the soap scum and buildup on those walls. I keep it handy right there next to my Zest bar of soap so that I can just use it spontaneously when needed (HA!). (Let's hope I don't magically erase myself one day by grabbing the wrong "bar.") Oh, and "magic" doesn't mean it will turn into a self-powered sponge, like Mickey's enchanted mop in The Sorcerer's Apprentice. It just sits there, unless someone picks it up and scrubs with it. Darn.
Changing the bed sheets.
With four beds to change on a "regular" basis, this can tucker me out. I am working out a rotation system so I don't strain myself. (Hey, being over 40 does have its hangups.) That's a lot of peeling, piling, putting, washing, softening, drying, folding, pulling, tugging, and smoothing just for one bed. And if bunk beds are involved, boy, I'd need to be Mary Poppins to enjoy doing that while balanced atop the tiny step ladder. The reward is the fresh sheets at the end of the day. Too bad that's only a one-day kind of moment.
Well, now that I've gone on about that, it's time to stop stalling and do it. Well, maybe not all at once. Pacing oneself is a good way to get through the icky chores of life. I just happen to be a slow pacer.
Where's Mickey when you need him?