Confessions of a Reluctant Housekeeper

My abhorrence for cleaning goes way back.

When I was about five, my exasperated mother (love ya, Mom) shut me in my room and said I couldn't come out until my room was clean. I remember falling to the toy and clothing strewn floor, sobbing and thinking, "I am NEVER gonna get outta here!"

I don't recollect how that situation ended up, but I'm quite certain it wasn't with a truly clean room.

Many years later, Jeff and I were checking out an apartment into which we were considering moving. My mother-in-law happened to be with us, so imagine my horror when Jeff walked into the kitchen and loudly called out, "Hey, Aimee! There's lots of counterspace in here for stacks of dirty dishes!"

Thanks, Babe.

On many a Mother's Day, I've been known to make one simple request: No gifts, please, just someone else clean the shower so that I don't have to. (Seriously.)

Back in our impoverished newly-married days, I actually cleaned a few other peoples' houses to earn some money. (Ha ha ha--That's a good one!)

I decided to end my ill-suited entrepreneurship when a lady called me back to reclean a few areas in her home. I hadn't tried to do a sloppy job. It all looked clean to me! (It was certainly cleaner than my own house.)

However, I realized that my lack of true understanding of cleanliness could easily be interpreted as trying to rip people off, and that's not very Christ-like, so after I cheerfully went back and tried to improve on my first attempt, I threw in the towel...and the mop and the scrub brush...

Poor Jeff. He does have a good cleaning eye, so life with me is less than sparkly. Sometimes I'll enter the living room to see him dusting the furniture.

"Doesn't this drive you crazy?" he'll ask, showing me the big smears of dust on the dust rag.

Uh...not really.

I do think, though, that even Jeff would agree that I've improved a bit over the years. (Or perhaps he has simply given up after 16 years of marriage...I'm not sure which.)

Don't get me wrong. My house isn't disgustingly filthy. I'm certain that no visitor has ever fearfully lowered their hindquarters onto my couches, wondering what lurks between the cushions...half-eaten candy bars perhaps or...small mammals. Neither does anyone need to fear using my dining ware or eating any food I prepare. (I use lots of hot soapy water on a daily basis in the kitchen.) If something spills, I clean it up immediately and if I ever detect a foul odor emanating from somewhere on the premises, I will diligently seek it out and obliterate it promptly.

I do clean...just rather reluctantly.

Dust collects.

Spots on the tile floor remain there for awhile (unless they are sticky).

Our shower looks like the before example on bathroom cleaning product commercials. Even when I do clean it, it never quite achieves the sparkling appearance of the after on the same commercial.

And all of this, brings me to the real purpose for this entire post. I want to share with you something clever that my ever creative daughter accomplished, but I had to ready you for the unfortunate state of my tile in the photo you are about to view. (It honestly doesn't look nearly this bad in real life. The flash seems to have intensified its putrescence.)

First, I must explain what you are about to see. You know how when you wash your hair, a bunch of it falls out and sticks to your hands? Well, Delaney has a tendency to transfer the hair from her hands to the shower wall where it clings until I remove it when I'm showering. (Yes, she seems to have inherited my negligence in cleanliness.)

A week or so ago, she called me into the bathroom after having finished her shower, pointed at the tile wall and happily said, "Look at what I made!"

In order to discern her piece of "art", you will definitely have to click on the photo below to enlarge it. Her carefully placed hairs define the outline of a specific object. Can you tell what it is? It was quite remarkable in real life. (Oh, and don't be surprised by the squalid state of the tile grout.) Happy viewing!