But it was clean two months ago...

I've got housekeeping issues.

There's a mountain of half-folded laundry on the living room floor, dirty dishes in the sink, cobwebs on the wine rack (that I spotted two weeks ago when shy was over and still haven't gotten around to cleaning), markers, magnets and other toys scattered into every corner, boxes of too-small or too-big clothes against walls waiting for homes, magazines I plan to read stacked on the counter, crafts and other kiddie artwork stowed away anywhere because I can't bear to throw it away... and so much more I can't list it all.

I say things like "Gee, I just deep-cleaned this washroom three weeks ago and it's already needing to be cleaned again!  What's up with that??"  And "No, don't put that ___ in the goodwill box - I know I've never used it before, and I know I don't even really know what it is, but I really might NEED it someday!" 

A big part of it is that I waste time doing other things (erm, like writing a blog entry about how the house is a disaster because I waste time), but there are other problems, too.  For example, Julie Morgenstern tells me that I'm unorganised because I'm a perfectionist.  Needless to say, I love that one.

All I know is that I just can't seem to keep up with the day-to-day cleaning and tidying that needs to be done to have a lovely, sparkling, clutter-free home.  Or even a remotely mediocre one.

Take this morning. 

M was at montessori, H was asleep on my back, and I thought I'd tackle the kitchen.   Everything that could be messy about a kitchen was messy about out kitchen. Dishes, counter, floor, etc.  I swept, since sweeping is really the only thing I'm able to do with any regularity, and then I started doing the dishes - loading things into the dishwasher (where they should go immediately, but never do), handwashing the rest. 

As I was doing that, I kept looking at the range.  Greg cooked dinner on Tuesday (and we weren't home all day yesterday), and he is a master at managing to get more food splattered on the stovetop than in the pot/pan.  It really started to bother me, so I quit the dishwashing (in hindsight, this was mistake #1 - Julie Morgenstern also told me to not fall prey to "zig zag organising," and I assume she'd say the same about cleaning.) and moved on to the stove.

I started by taking a cloth and quickly wiping down the top, but the spills were a day and a half old, so I needed to scrub and scour.  In scrubbing I became more aware of the tougher stains that wouldn't come off.  On went the over-the-range lights on HIGH, out came every cleaning instrument in my arsenal, and by the time I was done that range was sparkling clean, from the backs of the knobs (removed, soaked, scrubbed and the backs cleaned out with cotton swabs) to the tiniest crevices (scraped with toothpicks, scrubbed with a toothbrush).  What was I saying about being a perfectionist?

...and almost 45 minutes had passed, the rest of the kitchen was still a disaster, and I had only half an hour more to finish, prepare lunch, wake up H, and leave to pick up M. 

I felt discouraged, did some half-hearted cleaning of the counters (enough to carve out a small space to make lunch), and gave up.

The weird thing is how, for the rest of the day, the sight of that range made me kind of happy.  A normal person would be able to realise that if one clean spot brought happiness, then an entire house that's clean would be damn near life-changing.  But not me... it's really sick how well I was able to close my eyes to the mess everywhere else and feel stupidly pleased about the shiny stovetop.  How do I correct my ways if that's all I need to feel satisfied that I did my cleaning for the day (okay... week)?

I know that in three weeks, I'll be saying "gee, I just deep-cleaned that range three weeks ago, and already it needs to be cleaned again."