Well folks, through a twisty turny set of recent events I find myself the new owner of a job. Yep, a J.O.B. And even better? I like it! Of course, I may have to change my name to Mavis and grow a shemullet, but that is all in good time. I’ll try to keep my girlish good looks. Ha, ha. Ha.

Jason’s company recently began doing contracted work for a “certain large mortgage company” who is dealing with a lot of foreclosures. A large portion of this work involves cleaning and landscaping services to the properties… a lucrative opportunity but one that my husband and his business partner were not prepared to take on. So, I thought about it. And then I tried it. And then I decided to be like Nike and Just Do It. I found myself an awesome employee (and have several more waiting in the wings if I need them!), Jason set me up with all my supplies and WOOOSHH… I was off. A grand total of 48 houses in just four days. Not too shabby. This week I’ve been cleaning up a home that was covered in dog shit. Literally. Covered. We finished it today and left it looking 120% better than when we arrived.

So, you say… Why on earth would you want to spend your days cleaning? Wouldn’t you rather work in an air conditioned office and not come home smelling like a sweaty gym towel everyday? Good question. One I ponder especially hard when I arrive at a home with no running water and a giant floating dump in the toilet.

But these past few months I’ve felt especially restless. Aimless. Dare I say? Bored. So I decided I should get a job. I am totally qualified for an administrative assistant/secretarial job, but quite frankly that may very well be my version of H-E-Double Hockey Sticks. I really hate the way people expect you to be somewhere for EIGHT HOURS STRAIGHT. Even if your kids are sick. And sit. And tell them when you need to leave for five minutes. And deal with a bunch of office-politics-bullshit. And prick bosses. And boring, repetitive mind numbing paperwork. Um. Yeah. I figured it might take a while for me to find the perfect job… why not do this in the meantime? I’ve worked as a maid several times before and I must admit some obsessive compulsive part of me finds a secret thrill in restoring chaos to order.

I’ve discovered that there is something very cathartic for me in physical labor. I’ve slept better this past week than I have in a long time. I’ve sweat buckets and come home covered in every sort of debris imaginable. I may just be imagining it but I think my pants are fitting better. Plus? I’m the boss. I go in, get it done and get out. I can take a break when I want to. I can listen to my music and sing at the top of my lungs. I can stop if a yard sale catches my eye and chat with the neighborhood people. I can come home in the middle of the day if my kids are not feeling well or have an appointment. I can take them with me if I want! I’m finding it all quite zen, and that suits me just fine.

Its certainly not glamorous. Its hard work. I’m sore. Last week I ended up working over 45 hours. I’m exhausted. But I’m also excited! I can see this turning into a really great opportunity for us and I have no problem putting all my blood sweat and tears into it. But, mostly sweat.

Consider yourself warned: I have a Swiffer and I’m not afraid to use it.