It came to my attention this weekend that my house is dirty. Really, dirty.

I am great at tidying up. Put away the clutter, do the dishes, vacuum & wipe down type tidying. Real, elbow-grease fueled cleaning? Not so much. And then I wonder why I feel like my house is gross all the time.

I’m ashamed to say that I don’t regularly dust. (And I have some wicked allergies, so that makes no sense.) I clean out under my bed every… year. Maybe. I honestly don’t think I’ve ever polished my furniture. (Of course when your furniture comes from yard sales and Sauder it may not make much of a difference anyway.) I clean my cupboards out every so often. Baseboards usually don’t get done at all unless I’m pissed off at someone.

Sigh. So much for being a housewife, huh?

It’s embarrassing because, really, I have it easy. I have a washing machine… no wringing out pounds of wet laundry in the yard. I have a vacuum, a steam cleaner and a variety of magic cleaning solutions. I have Magic Erasers. (No, I don’t know what is in them and I DON’T CARE. So don’t tell me. I’ll be over here drinking hair dye and smoking crack while I remove Sharpie from the wall.) I don’t have a dishwasher, but I have two children rapidly approaching dish washing age. That is almost as good.

Yesterday all four of us scrubbed the kitchen. We pulled out the fridge and the stove, scrubbed the cabinets & walls and nooks and crannies. At the end of the day it was sparkling! Still old and fairly ugly… but clean! We made a pact to spend every Sunday doing some deep cleaning. All of us… and I think that will make a huge difference.

But I’m still not folding the laundry. *SHUDDER*