Housecleaning is a sin

Okay, maybe not. But if you know me, and odds are fairly good that if you are reading this blog, you know me, or maybe not, I don't know. Anyway, lost my train of thought there for a mo'. If you know me, you will know that I HATE cleaning. I think I may have mentioned this recently. Or was I talking about laundry? I can't remember. But, I do. I hate it. It ruins my day. Most of the time. Here's the thing. Clutter? It makes me twitchy. Cleaning? Makes me even more twitchy. (On a side note, my husband generally hates clutter, was a neatfreak when I married him, as a matter of fact. Fear not, I have since corrupted him.)

Here is another interesting aspect of my enormously complex personality. I hate dirtiness worse than I hate cleaning. Does this make sense? I do not like clutter, but am a seriously disorganized person. I hate cleaning up, which results in largish amounts of clutter (I am also a bit of a packrat, but that is another post entirely). But I do clean up, sometimes. I really, really hate dirtiness. Nastiness. So, while I don't subscribe to submitted wifery (haha, inside joke) I do clean my baseboards. And my fridge handle. And the fact that the paint is wearing off of my cabinets and so they look like they are very dirty. It bugs me. Scunge bugs me, it is gross. So, my entire point is this; my house may be very cluttered (and it is) but it is not dirty.

That brings me to my second point. Have you seen my house? No? Here, let me show you some pictures.

From Drop Box

From Drop Box

From Drop Box

It is adorable, is it not? My delightful abode is composed of three different parts, which occurred at three different periods in time.
The first part of the house, that consisting of the front room, dining area and what is now my studio were built around 1880. They have lovely thick walls and deep window wells. The exterior walls are adobe, faced with brick. The interior walls are lathe and plaster. What does this mean, you ask? Dust. Lots and lots of dust. The adobe breaks down, the plaster cracks, 100 and some odd years of dust leaks out of every crevice. The second problem. We have a wood burning stove in our fireplace. Heats the house deliciously, makes things oh, so cozy...BUT...oh, the ash that flies hither and yon when one opens said stove. Everything around the fireplace gets pretty heavily coated and it flies lightly about the entire area.

I hate dust. It makes me sneeze and it makes things look...you guessed it, dirty! Ewwwwww. Dirt. Yuck.

Problem number next. The second phase of the house, that consisting of the kitchen and bathrooms, was built around 1900. Back in the day, not having cars, there was no need for a garage, so the garage we have was an afterthought and therefore, not connected to the house. So, the entrance to the kitchen is straight out of the yard. Also? No mud room. This means that every bit of dirt on anybody's shoes gets tracked straight onto my floor, which foolish me for choosing it, is white. What was I thinking? Because, guess what?

DIRT! MORE DIRT! DIRT EVERYWHERE! I HATE DIRT!!!!!

Dirty floors, yuck. Dirt on the baseboards. Nasty. Dirt on the door from a certain Small One's grubby little fingers (not to mention the dirty fingers of the hardworking Man of the House). Ewww.

Are you getting the vision? The whole, entire point of this whole entire post is this. If you come to my house and see lots of clutter and think that I am a terrible housekeeper, you are right and wrong. It is messy, but baby, it is clean.