The problem I’ve never solved

Sometimes I look around at our insanely messy house, at the dust on the bookshelves and the crushed goldfish crackers on the dining room floor and the small cars  lying underneath every piece of furniture, and I feel like curling up into the fetal position and gibbering like a crazy person.  I have not, in ten years of marriage and six years of motherhood, even come close to figuring out how to keep this place clean.  My grand housekeeping experiment of earlier this year came to nought, mostly because in our family of four, I am the only person who seems to care about keeping it clean.  (Could this be related to the fact that I am the only  female in the household?  I wonder.)

It is at times like these that I need a reminder like this:

“My theory on housework is, if the item doesn’t multiply, smell, catch fire, or block the refrigerator door, let it be. No one else cares. Why should you?”

So said the great Erma Bombeck.    She has a point, right?

Something to ponder.

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