I am not known for my domesticity. In fact, I am rather well known for my LACK of domesticity. It's not that I'm lazy or a slob, although my mother would probably argue vehemently with both of those statements.
I just don't spend my precious free time cleaning the house. I keep the laundry done regularly, although the last load (usually whites) may stay in the dryer for a day or two.
I wash the dishes EVERY night, and I make up the bed EVERY morning. Unless I leave Hubby in it, which is rare, and he refuses to be bothered with such minutiae as making up a bed.
My mother was a fanatic about house cleaning. I don't mean fanatic in the sense that her house was always spotless. With 5 kids, spotless wasn't possible. We all had chores, and I don't think any of us ever did them to her satisfaction. It was routine to be awakened on Saturday morning at some ungodly hour with Mother screaming, "Get up and clean up this $!%#**! house!"
No wonder housekeeping is not at the top of my priority list.
I also have another theory. I don't like doing something only partway. If I don't have time to do it ALL (and I rarely do), I'd just rather not bother.
Because how do you know what parts to do and what parts to leave undone?
Vacuum and not dust?
Sweet and not mop?
Pick up the clutter and not worry about the baseboards?
It's so depressing.
Today, for some reason, I got started cleaning and couldn't stop. One thing kept leading to another. I started at 8:30 this morning, and I finally stopped (sort of) at 3:30 when the sun made a brief appearance. At least I can say I was (sort of) in the pool on Memorial Day. Up to my knees. Which turned blue immediately.
Hubby came home mid-afternoon and could just barely get in the door because I had moved all the furniture to clean the floors. This was a full wall-to-wall cleaning, not one of those where I just cleaned the visible parts. He watched me for a moment and then asked, his brow furrowed teasingly, "You're not planning to leave me, are you?"
"Hell no!" I answered. "If I do leave you, I'm not leaving you with a clean house."
Vacuuming led to rolling up the area rugs to vacuum underneath.
Which led to using Murphy's Oil on the hardwood floors.
Which led to mopping the kitchen. Twice. (Sullen Teenager and her boyfriend dropped by just long enough to march through the freshly mopped kitchen.)
Which led to cleaning the dining table and chairs. How DO those chairs get splatters on them?
Which led to cleaning the china cabinet.
Which led to cleaning the trash can. (See what I mean about not knowing where to stop? Seriously. The trash can?)
Which somehow led to cleaning the oven.
Vacuuming the bedroom (including the baseboards) led to dusting.
Which meant cleaning off the dresser.
Which led to finding a pair of pants and uniform shirt of Hubby's that needed buttons.
Which led to finding three more shirts that had one or more buttons missing.
Which led to cleaning the CPAP machine. All the parts. None of which I was really sure I could put back together again.
Dusting the living room led to clearing off a space to put the charging valet my step-daughter gave me for Mother's Day.
Which led to putting away some candles I bought from a school fund raiser. I don't even know why I bought candles, since we can't burn them at school anymore, not after some dude left a candle burning at school overnight and caught the building on fire. The new addition they had just finished. Duh.
Which also led to putting away some Christmas ornaments I bought in Nashville and which had nestled themselves comfortably on the piano, content to wait there until I put the tree up again in November.
I went nonstop for 7 hours, and I still felt obligated to get on the elliptical.
I'll be quite happy to return to school tomorrow so I can get some rest.