I am a haphazard housekeeper at best. I'm more on the slovenly side of things. It's not like you can't sit on the couch for all the old newspapers or that you can't use the sink for all the dishes. And I never skimp on the bathrooms. You kind of can't when you live with boys. So, what's the problem? you are probably thinking. Doesn't sound too bad.

The problem is dust. I hate hate hate to dust. It is a double-edged sword because I loathe dusting as I'm highly allergic to it and I am always suffering from allergies because there's too much dust.I also hate to vacuum. And then you throw in the ridiculous amount of shedding my dog and I do and ugh. Our house is a dust and tumbleweed shrine. Pah, you are thinking. Suck it up and just fricking dust. What's the big whoop?

I like chores that have an end result. A gleaming counter. A sparkling sink. Dusting is a thankless task. By the time you have finished the last room, the first room already has dreaded dust sprinkles resettling onto every imaginable surface. 

This has never before been such a problem for me. We first lived in a teensy three room apartment that I could thoroughly clean-including scrubbing floors on hands and knees- every day in about 9 minutes. Our additional rentals were of a similar fashion. We built our first house and we still were childless and it was half the size of this one, so even with the extra room, it was still a joy to clean. As much as cleaning can be a joy. I mean,I was on top of things. I removed entire light fixtures on a regular basis to get in all the nooks and crannies.

But now. Jayzuss. I don't know if it's living in the country proper or the house itself or having a small person child or just sheer laziness. I am perpetually overwhelmed. 

I have new found admiration for my mother, who worked full-time outside the home-- at night no less-- so that she could work full-time in our home during the day and had to swaddle my bedroom in plastic and dust it twice a day because of my allergies. How in the world did she do it? And in between her current very busy, high-pressure job that starts at 6am and ends about 8 pm and million and one friends and social outings and 4am trips to the gym, could I somehow entice her to come to my house twice a day and do it again?  Kidding, kidding. But seriously, I will pay someone. I will. Send me an e-mail. I am accepting applications. You don't have to dust twice a day like my mom, but it would definitely move your resume to the top of the pile.