Genetics

There is a tradition that runs in my family. It was passed down to me from my mother, to her from her mother... maybe even to my grandmother from her mother. It is well known among family to be something the women in our family have in common. Perhaps genetic.

What is it, you ask? Ok... I'll tell you. Come closer:
We're terrible housekeepers.

It's true. I've always wanted to be Suzy Homemaker, but I am afraid it may not be in the cards. There are times when I look around and think, My word. If some old friend showed up at my door right now, I'd have to poke my head out through the door and give them directions to meet me at the nearest Starbucks in order to avoid complete embarrassment. That's pretty bad.

I went on a cleaning kick the other night (which happens oh-so-rarely). The strange thing is, I feel SO good when my house is spic-and-span. Really good. Like a burden has been lifted off my shoulders. Like I can breathe a little easier. So it should be easy to keep things clean right? Hmm. Funny how that never works out.

I've informed Matt that once we're homeowners, I intend to hire a cleaning service. Once I have that pride of ownership, instead of that crappy "eh, it's a rental" attitude, I hope I'll feel a bit more motivated. I hope. But just in case, I plan to hire the professionals.

In the meantime, if you intend to drop by... could you give me 24 hours notice? I'll have some tidying up to do.