Short Confession of a Slob

I have a confession.  I'm a slob.  Been a slob my whole life.  Married a slob.  Well maybe slob is harsh.  Cluttered is closer.  .

And housework is something I have to make myself do.  I should be doing some right now.  But this has to be more important.  I've been a bit better at it since I'm in a real house, but the glamour is wearing off.  I even bought a new belt for the vacuum, and installed it, and vacuumed a couple of floors.  The rest of the floors need it yet. But, I required a break. 

In my head I know exactly what I want to get done, and how lovely it would be to not watch cat fluff roll across the floor like tumbleweeds.  But, really, do I have to?  Right now?

The floors want swept and mopped.
The end tables want cleared and dusted.  I have a habit of piling my life on table tops and stuffing bits into drawers.  I even banished coffee tables in my house because they become too stacked to see the TV.
There's a pile of junk mail, magazines, and paid bills that need filed, thrown out, shredded.
The kitchen counters need wiped and de-furred.
The bathrooms, just, eww.
There are still boxes to sort from the move.
Should be thinking about dinner.
And there's a load of laundry in the dryer to be folded.

I don't even have kids at home.  I have no excuse.  I just simply HATE housework.  I want a housekeeper.  If ever I won the lottery I'd set aside enough to hire a good housekeeper. 
I'm very jealous of people who can keep clean homes, actually I'm intimidated by people that keep clean homes.  I feel out of place in other people's clean homes.  I'm a clean house failure.

Sigh,  as I sit here avoiding housework, I realize the monitor needs cleaning.  Badly.