Sunday, August 7, 2011

My dirty little secret

I'm just going to come out with it, right here, right now.

I am PROFOUNDLY HORRIBLE at housework.

I know everyone says their house is messy.  Blah, blah, blah.  We don't live in a Hoarders house with rampant rodents or holes in the wall or anything, but I absolutely do not vacuum enough--and by enough I mean "more than once a month".  You know what's completely objectionable about this?
1) We have two dogs.
2)  I have these.  Both of them.

Roomba 560 and Dyson DC07.  Both designed for pet hair.  Meaning that it's not like I'm cleaning the carpet with my grandma's Electrolux.  So one would think that at least the floors would be clean, right?  No.  Nope. Not at all.  Hello, balls of hair floating by.  Hello, touch no surfaces in the house if you're wearing black.  

The kitchen and the bathroom.  The kitchen and the bathroom both have vinyl flooring.  So in combination with the two machines above, I have this steam cleaner.  Add water, plug in, mop, throw cleaning pad in washer.  Beautiful!  Easy!  Never happens!

Dishes get done.  The toilet gets cleaned--though I will say that the discovery of those bleach toilet tablet things you put in the tank probably was a significant one.  The bathtub?  Weeelllll...yeah, I clean it.  But not as often as you clean yours.

Laundry?  BAHAHAHAHAHAHA.  I like to think of my laundry schedule as a zero equation:  when I have zero clean underwear, it's time to do laundry.  I'm also responsible for Caroline's laundry.  Let's just say it's a good thing her grandmother likes to shop.  And Dan?  He does his own.  (But that's because he's all weird about how his t-shirts are folded--and he used to be equally weird about folding his boxers.  Who the hell folds their boxers?  He got over that, but he's still weird about the t-shirts, so he just does his own.)  

Dusting?  Um.  Well, sure, when Dan's parents visit for Caroline's birthday.  Oh, and if I host Thanksgiving.  Or if someone new is coming to visit...which brings me to another point.  I have always wanted to have people come over for dinner and drinks.  I love to cook, I love to entertain.  But I would be completely embarrassed to have someone over to this mess on most days.  I'm sure it's not as bad as it seems.  Our housesitter characterized our house as "cute and crafty--and in need of vacuuming".  Heh.  That seems not so bad.  But it feels...dirty to me.

And this is all just not acceptable.  I have always known this about myself.  When I lived alone (or with a paying roommate), I kept the house pretty clean.  But for some reason, I don't get it done anymore.  I really think I'm lazy.  I mean that sincerely.  I work fulltime, but so what?  So does everyone else.  I'm taking courses, but so what?  That means I don't have 15 minutes to clean every day?  Really?  There's just no excuse.

Lest you think "Where is your husband in all this?", let me assure you that he's doing his fair share.  I'm pretty sure he vacuums more often than I do.  The bathroom and dishes are usually mine, but he definitely helps out.  And like I said, he does his own laundry. This is about doing what I should be doing, not doing more than I should.

So starting this week, the week that I sort-of go back to work for the school year, I am trying to make myself, and the dog hair tumbleweeds under the TV stand,  a promise:  I will clean 15 minutes a day, every day.  I will make sure the dishes are in the dishwasher and off the counter every night before bed.  That Fly Lady stuff is probably a good idea--I will set the timer (which is in reality Caroline's time-out timer, which I think is TOTALLY appropriate) and clean until it tells me to stop.  

Oh.  And I'm going to see if Caroline's tall enough to push the Dyson.  She might as well form good habits early, right?