It was just another Thursday and I was draped over a toilet scrubbing away at the baseboards thinking to myself,
I am so happy right now.
For those of you who don’t know what I do, I run a small business called The Handywoman where I provide domestic services such a house cleaning, organization, meal preparation or whatever my clients need/want to make their house feel more like home.
Good ol’ blue collar work.
I was made for it.
Working with my hands has always brought me great pleasure and fulfillment, but for the longest time I felt like I could never make it my career.
Growing up, I got good grades and paid attention in class. Doing this earned me the title of Most Likely to Succeed. What people didn’t know, however, was that I hated going to school. I enjoyed my friends and activities, but the only place I ever wanted to be was home. There I could work and create to my heart’s desire.
Afraid of being considered a “loss of potential” however I went straight to college where I got a degree in Science Education.
And so the girl who hated going to school chose a field where she would have to do just that till the age of 65. Needless to say, I was miserable every day of my internship. Still, teaching was the only job I could think of where I wouldn’t be chained to a desk, and, above all, where I would get to be home for two weeks at Christmas, one week in the spring and three months in the summer. (I know. Pretty bad, huh?)
Obviously, the whole teaching thang didn’t work out.
And neither did the assortment of odd jobs I’ve had since. (Thank God!)
I came across this post the other day on The Farm Chicks Facebook page and it put into words exactly how I feel about what I do:
If there’s one thing I’ve learned in business it’s to pour love into what I do. Professionally speaking, that translates into caring about the things I do, the success of not just my business, but also the success of those who I do business with and the happiness of those who visit my antiques show. It’s all about the love.
To some, painting a kitchen or peeling potatoes may sound like punishment; being a “cleaning lady” Plan B.
Not to me!
Being domestic has always been Plan A, it’s always been playtime.
Therefore, I smile to myself whenever a client starts apologizing the minute I step through their door. “Sorry the place is a wreck!” “Sorry for the dust!” “Sorry for the smudges!”
Why are you apologizing? You’ve just allowed this girl to work, play and create in her favorite place in the world.
Do you live in the area and need a spring cleaning, a room painted or a closet organized?
Please contact me via my Facebook page or email me at email@example.com.