somebody stop me!

Seriously, someone needs to plead with me to take this blog down before I get myself into even more trouble... if you're still reading this, none of you love me enough to have convinced me to stop myself from the slaughter I walk myself to.

Here goes.

The Clean House~

I love a clean house, I love walking into my house and smelling clean air, possibly even the fragrant soap used to clean it. And when I go to someone elses' clean house, I appreciate the work they put into their domicile, to make it so. And should I walk into your house and it's a mess... I totally identify.

You see, being a "clean freak", per se, was never really a quality of mine. Oh, not that I grew up in a messy home, to the contrary, my mother was quite fastidious. If the house wasn't picked up, my parent's offspring, most likely, had something to do with it. Okay, so it was probably me. But mom, I think, was very good at not nagging me about my mess. However...

Whenever my parents would leave for the day, there would, almost invariably, be a list of things to accomplish before their return. It might read; "Clean the kitchen, take out the garbage, swap out the laundry, pick up the entry way (put your extra shoes in your rooms), vacuum the floor, clean your bathroom" etc. And as the oldest, I was learning the significance of managerial skills, and thus delegated.

My sister would say that delegating would imply that I somehow thought the job should be done, assigned jobs, and participated myself. And that may not have totally been the case either. You see, I would examine the list, look at the clock and the return time noted on the "assignment sheet", and then calculate how much needed to be done in order for it to look like I made a concerted effort to complete the list. The sister who would be scoffing at the "delegated" comments would be completely stressed out at my kill the list approach. Usually around two hours before my parents arrival, she would be frantically cleaning, stressed out, and angry at her brothers for not helping with the cleaning. Exclaiming to the world, "You guys, when Mom gets home, she is going to see what a mess the house is, and she is going to be mad at me!" Reasoning I never understood, but then I would calmly explain to her that there was at least two hours before she got home, which left us like an hour or better to relax till we had to really start cleaning. Unfortunately, some of this logic has spilled over, but I feel, as an adult, I have come up with better reasoning.

My wife's approach to cleaning is, start early, and clean all day till evening when you can relax. Now that was a crude, possibly exaggerated statement, but I promise there is a shadow of accuracy in there. I fail to see the logic behind cleaning the house right away. The children will be up, they will want food, you feed them, clean them up-ish (their gonna get messier in moments), you entertain said children till they nap. When they are napping, and not playing with their toys you, quickly, pick up the living room, do the dishes, throw some laundry in the machine, and start dinner. Just in time for Tina to come home, smell the dryer vent as she walks by the warm air blasting from the wall of my house, walk in and be greeted by a living room that is picked up, see an empty sink, and me preparing dinner, and not in trouble for not doing my least favorite task in the world, clean the house.

Okay, all that being said, I am actually trying really hard here. Honestly, even I laugh as I type this, but really guys! I am trying to do more in this department so that my wife can enjoy a clean house more, and since, acts of service, is kinda one of her main love languages, it would be healthy for me to take a more serious approach to cleaning.  Honey I love you, and I'm working on it. It might not be over night, but the house will continue to look better when you leave it with me.