So. Add me to the lazybones list. I hate cleaning.

Well, no. Actually, I don't mind most cleaning tasks. It's tidying I hate. I hate picking stuff up and putting it away, but I don't mind vacuuming (especially since hubby bought me a Dyson. We fight over who gets to vacuum. I'm not joking.)

But then I hate putting the vacuum away after.

I don't mind scraping plates and loading the dishwasher, but I hate putting them away when they're clean. (I don't do dishes by hand. It messes with my nails.)

I don't mind doing laundry, but I hate putting it on the rack to dry (we don't have a tumble dryer. This is England, where such things are rare and expensive and housed in the garage if you actually have one.) I don't really mind folding it but I HATE putting it away.

I don't really mind scrubbing sinks and toilets and tubs. Well, no, it isn't as much fun here because we don't have Comet. I love Comet. Especially when I was pregnant with the Faery. We had the cleanest tub in town. I used to clean it three or four times a week just because I loved the Comet smell so much. Hey, pregnant ladies get wierd fixations. The smell of apples made me gag horribly (and of course we discovered that when my hubby bought a big bottle of green apple dish soap. I couldn't bear to even go near the kitchen sink. I'd have to go sniff some Comet to feel better.)

I don't mind cleaning countertops and stovetops either (although I admit I don't really see the point with the stovetop.) But I hate cleaning out the fridge. Don't mind taking out the trash but never seem to get around to putting in a fresh bag afterwards.

But I would rather pick my way through a sea of toys and dirty clothes than bend over to pick up anything off the floor. I'd rather stack only-worn-once clothes that can be worn again on the arm of the couch than take them upstairs and put them back away.

The problem isn't me. It's these damn other people in my house making messes. When I lived alone my house was always tidy. But I've picked up so many frigging Little People off the floor I dream about them. Which makes me mad.

So thats it. I'm a little schizophrenic when it comes to cleaning, and basically a lazy slob, but under the mess I like stuff to be clean. Which makes no sense at all, but who said it had to?