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.