I often dream about being able to outsource my most-hated jobs in the world. Call me
lazy what you will, but the domestic goddess in me – the one who USED to enjoy spending her weekends cleaning and baking cakes – shrivelled up and died a few years ago. RIP. You will be missed.
I love when my house is sparkling like a Mr Sheen ad. I love when my cupboards are filled with freshly ironed clothes and my undie drawer is filled to the brim with all my faves. I love eating a delicious, home-cooked meal….but the actual cooking part is like torture for me. I like eating someone else’s delicious meal, because my meals have run out of deliciousness. I’ve filled my quota. As an Italian, this is no good. This is very no good.
A life with a cleaner, a cook and a personal trainer is my idea of heaven. That’s it, just those three. I’m not being too greedy, am I? I don’t want a nanny or a butler, an Uber driver or a dog-walker. I have no desire to ham it up on a yacht in the Caribbean or have a fancy car in my driveway. Just someone to take the mundane out of my Mondays. I often dream about that day, when my pennies are piled high and I can pay someone to clean my shower, which is THE WORST of all worsts, cook me healthy dinners and get my butt into shape. Then I’d have SO much more time to do all the other stuff I enjoy, like hanging with my kids, working hard and bingeing hard on trashy reality TV on Hayu. It’s a very first-world dream, but it’s my dream and ONE DAY, I know it’ll come true. In the meantime, I’m off to scrub the shower….
What would be your ultimate luxury?
Here, Monty and Nat Bassingthwaighte chat about how cleaners are relationship-savers….