Maybe I should be a little more clear about that title- Reasons Why I Hate Cleaning….My Own House.

Its a never-ending task that I dread everyday. Maybe that’s why its never-ending. At work I am (almost) always organized and I know where everything is. However, at my house, I am always ironing, folding, scrubbing, sweeping….please make it stop. I have even come to consider hiring a cleaning service once a week. But since I am at home everyday and I’m not chasing kids around the house, I guess that would be seen as a bit lazy.

Our dog doesn’t make it any easier. She always waits until I have one spot in the house clean and then decides that the corner of our hallway would be the perfect spot to go the bathroom. I sometimes wonder what I am going to do when I have kids because I gag every time I clean up her accidents. I literally count to three and then hold my breath as I go in to clean up whatever little surprise she has left me.
I always know when she has gone somewhere too because she will go into her crate without being asked and just sit there and look at me sheepishly until I go and sniff out her hiding spot.
To be clear- this is Matt’s dog. He failed at the early stages of potty training. Not me.

Cleaning up after a move is the worst thing ever. I have so many boxes of “things” that I don’t want to display or use in this home, but I keep thinking “maybe I will want it in our next home”. So I can’t get rid of it. Instead, I have 3 boxes of what some may consider junk piled away in a closet. Even still, I have a few boxes sitting in our dining room that need to be put away and I just haven’t found the time to put that task at the top of my list.
My friends keep asking when we are having a house-warming party since we have lived here for 3 months now- and Matt has been here for 7. Instead I make my friends wait in their car if they ever pick me up at our place. Its for their own good. This little condo is not one you see in a Home and Garden Magazine.

I am the reason our house is a mess. Well, not the only reason, but I do shed hair about as much as the dog. Every time I sweep I find a considerably gross amount of my hair. It shouldn’t make me grimace since its my own hair, but the fact that it is collecting dust on my floor is gross. I honestly do not even know how I still have hair on my head.

The timer for my washer just went off. I never realized how much clothes Matt and I have until I got married. Before I moved in, he wore wrinkled shirts and shrunk half of his wardrobe. He better be pretty dang thankful for me.

I will never understand those of you who say “cleaning is relaxing”.