Housecleaning is not one of my strong suits. I do it because I have to, which is probably what most would say. I have no problem walking around outside, so when a little of the outside winds up on my floor, it doesn’t bother me. My motto is—if you don’t like dirt on the bottom of your feet, wear shoes. My other motto is—if you don’t call before you come over, don’t expect a clean house. I do have a life, you know.
You will not catch me sweeping and mopping my garage like my younger sister does, and you won’t find her stepping over dirt like I do. Basic things in my house have to be clean—the kitchen and bathrooms. My dishes and laundry are usually done, though a laundry basket of clean clothes always resides on my closet floor, and I run my dishwasher every other day.
Remember the book a few years back, Life’s Too Short to Fold Your Underwear? Wish I’d thought of writing it. Perhaps my husband and son could write one entitled Life’s Too Short to Put Your Clothes in the Hamper: Why I drop my dirty clothes on the floor beside the hamper.
But I digress.
I guess I hate to clean because it’s a needless waste of time that will be repeated in a few days, weeks, or whenever. I could spend that time doing something else—anything else. Jesus once said he was going to his Father who would prepare a place for us, a mansion. Wonder if there’ll be maid service provided?
Just a thought.